i^0 


1 


\ 


CLEMENTINA'S  MIRROR 


.-^--iif-^i^;?^'  ,-U-i^.. 


-^1 , 


^^^ 


••  C'li-mcntina  bchelil  a  lovt-ly  crfuluro  icpojini:  u]»(>n  the  wings  of 
a  cortreous  biittcrflv."— Pairo  54. 


CLEMENTINA'S  MIRROR; 


9B, 


Si^  d^limpo  of  f  itt. 


BT 

NELLIE   aRAHAME. 


NEW  YORK: 
SHELDON  &  COMPANY. 

115    NASSAU    STREET. 

1862. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  185S,  by 

SHELDOX,  BLAKEMAN  &  CO. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 

for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 


CHAPTER    I. 

I  OTHER,    mother,    it    is    the  week 
before    Christmas !"     exclaimed    a 
y^    young    girl,    as    she    rushed    into 
the.  room  where    a    pale,   middle- 
aged  lady  \\'as  busily  engaged   in 
sewing. 

"Yes,  dear  Helen,  I  have  thought  of  it 
much.  It  is  always  a  happy  season  to  me," 
was  the  quiet  reply.  "  I  hope  I  shall  manage 
to  finish  these  shirts  this  week,  as  I  intend 
to  send  them  to  your  brother  in  a  Christmas 
box.  I  think  they  will  be  quite  acceptable, 
as  he  had  so  poor  a  supply  when  he  left  home." 
The  mother  smiled  as  she  bent  over  her  work 
1* 


6  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEEOE. 

with  renewed  interest,  and  plied  her  needle 
with  still  greater  rapidity. 

Helen  did  not  seem  quite  satisfied.  She 
paced  nervously  up  and  down  the  room  once 
or  twice,  and  then  stationed  herself  at  the 
window,  seemingly  much  interested  in  watch- 
ing the  passers-by ;  yet  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  her  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  She  had 
an  absent  look ;  and  she  twisted  and  pulled 
her  bonnet-strings  in  such  an  impatient  and 
excited  manner  that  her  mother's  attention 
was  attracted  by  her  restlessness. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  child  ?"  she  said, 
at  length.  "  You  have  not  been  still  one 
moment  since  you  came  in..  Has  any  thing 
gone  wrong  at  school?  Something  seems  to 
trouble  you.  Whatever  it  is,  my  darling, 
you  may  be  sure  of  your  mother's  sympa- 
thy;— so  come,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Helen  turaed  from  the  window  at  the  af- 
fectionate address,  and  throwing  herself  on 
a  footstool  at  her  mother's  feet  replied : 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOK.  7 

**  Nothing  of  any  consequence,  dear  mamma. 
I  was  only  wondering  how  I  should  spend 
the  holidays." 

"  Is  that  all,  darling  ?  I  must  confess  that 
my  thoughts  have  dwelt  somewhat  upon  the 
same  subject.  I  will  try  to  make  them  as 
pleasant  for  you  as  possible.  May  and  Hatty, 
you  know,  will  spend  the  holiday  week  here, 
and  you  will  be  very  happy  together.  Then 
I  will  persuade  your  father  to  allow  you  aU 
to  go  to  the  Museum,  and  your  uncle  John 
has  promised  a  sleigh-ride,  if  the  sleighing 
continues  good.  Your  little  cousins  are  not 
so  familiar  with  city  life  as  you  are,  and  they 
will  enjoy  seeing  the  houses,  and  shops,  and 
churches ;  so,  much  of  your  time  will  be  oc- 
cupied in  showing  them  the  city.  And  not 
the  least  of  our  pleasures  will  be  getting  off 
this  box  for  Willie.  The  dear  boy  will  be 
delighted  to  receive  some  token  of  affection 
from  each  loved  one  at  home,"  and,  again, 
the  pale  face  brightened  into  a  loving  smile. 


8  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKKOR. 

But  the  smile  was  not  relBected  in  her 
young  daughter's  face.  On  the  contrary,  a 
cloud  settled  on  the  fair  brow,  and  tears  stood 
in  the  bright  eyes. 

"I  know  that  I  shall  not  enjoy  myself  at 
all,  then,  mamma,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  de- 
cided vexation.  "There  is  nothing  new  for 
me  in  any  thing  you  have  proposed.  I  do 
not  believe  the  girls  will  be  pleased,  either. 
I  am  sure  they  will  not  find  much  amuse- 
ment in  seeing  fine  houses  and  shops.  I  do 
not  care  for  them  at  all,  and  May  is  two 
years  older  than  I  am.  Besides,  if  there  is 
any  one  thing  I  detest  more  than  another, 
it  is  to  show  off  the  city  to  people  from  the 
country." 

"  I  had  not  given  my  little  girl  credit  for 
so  much  selfishness,'*  said  the  mother,  with  a 
grieved  and  disappointed  look.  "  I  thought 
you  loved  your  little  cousins  so  much  that 
you  would  like  to  have  them  visit  you ;  but 
if  it  will  annoy   you,   it  is  not   too   late    to 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  9 

send  them  word  not  to  come.  It  will  be  a 
great  disappointment  for  them,  but  I  suppose 
you  do  not  mind  that." 

"  Xow  you  are  only  trying  to  vex  me, 
mamma.  You  know  I  do  love  the  girls  dear- 
ly, and  have  been  looking  forward  to  their 
visit  all  this  winter;  but  I  think  I  could  con- 
trive something  for  their  entertainment  a 
great  deal  nicer  than  what  you  have  proposed. 
You  see,  dear  mamma,"  the  little  girl  con- 
tinued, with  a  more  hopeful  look,  "the  girls 
at  school  have  all  been  telling  what  they 
intend  to  do  at  Christmas,  and  they  expect 
a  great  many  presents.  It  would  astonish 
you  if  you  could  hear  Carrie  Wood  tell  of 
all  the  pretty  things  that  Santa  Claus  left 
for  her  last  year ;  and  Annie  Sherwood  says 
she  is  going  to  have  a  Christmas-tree,  and 
invite  fifty  little  girls ;  and  she  is  going  to 
wear  such  a  lovely  pink  silk,  flounced  to  the 
waist — it  is  a  perfect  beauty ;  and  almost  all 
the  school  girls  are  invited.    Now,  I  know  I 


10  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRBOB. 

can  not  afford  any  thing  grand,  or  splendid, 
but,  as  May  and  Hatty  will  be  here,  I  would 
like  to  invite  just  a  few  little  girls  and  get 
up  a  tree  at  home."  Helen  listened  for  her 
mother's  reply  in  breathless  expectation. 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  my  love, 
but  it  can  not  be.  In  the  first  place,  I  have 
no  time  to  devote  to  it.  If  I  get  Willie's 
box  ready,  it  will  be  as  much  as  I  can  at- 
tempt ;  and  you  know  very  well  that  your 
father  can  not  afford  to  go  to  any  extra  ex- 
pense this  year." 

"  That  is  always  the  cry :  papa  can  not  afford 
it !"  muttered  Helen,  in  a  very  audible  voice. 
**I  do  wish  I  might  have  my  own  way,  just 
this  once.  I  do  not  believe  it  would  cost  so 
very  much." 

"  I  hardly  feel  like  reasoning  with  you,  Hel- 
en, you  are  so  very  selfish,  and  unlike  your- 
self, this  afternoon.  You  know  very  well 
that  I  have  been  compelled  to  part  with  nurse 
because  I  can  not  afford  to  keep  her,  though 


CLEMENTINA'S   MTEROE.  11 

I  have  much  additional  care  in  consequence. 
As  to  this  entertainment  you  desire  so  much, 
you  are  such  a  child  that  you  can  not  estimate 
the  expense  and  trouble  it  would  be,  at  all. 
If  you  gave  a  party  to  your  young  friends 
you  could  not  omit  any,  without  giving  of- 
fense, and  I  suppose  you  would  hardly  hke 
to  invite  them  on  such  an  occasion,  without 
remembering  each  of  them  by  some  little 
gift.  Then  you  have  no  dress  that  would  be 
appropriate  to  wear,  and  I  should  be  obliged 
to  purchase  you  one.  In  short,  it  is  entirely 
out  of  the  question,  so  you  must  think  no 
more   about  it.-' 

The  tone  of  her  mother's  voice  was  so  de- 
cided that  Helen  saw  it  would  be  useless  to 
urge  her  request,  but  her  spirit  was  so  chafed 
and  excited  that  she  felt  as  if  her  discontent 
must  find  vent  in  words. 

"I  do  not  believe  that  you  care  for  me  at 
all,"  said  the  naughty  little  girl,  bursting  into 
tears.     "You   could  gratify  me  just  as  well 


12  clkmentixa's  mirror. 

as  not,  if  you  only  chose  to ;  but  it  is  always 
the  way  when  I  want  any  thing." 

Her  mother  was  much  displeased.  "Helen, 
you  may  leave  the  room  immediately,"  she 
said.  "  I  could  not  have  believed  that  you 
would  speak  to  me  so  disrespectfully.  Go  to 
the  nursery  ;  there  is  the  baby  crying  now, 
and  no  one  is  with  him  but  Julia  and  Char- 
lie ;  I  must  try  to  finish  this  before  dark." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  suppose  I  can  take  care  of  the 
baby,"  was  Helen's  soliloquy  as  she  ascended 
the  stairs;  "nothing  but  work  when  I  am  at 
home.  There  are  a  great  many  girls  of  my 
age  wlio  go  to  our  school,  that  have  nothing 
to  do  but  amnse  themselves  from  morning 
till  night,  and  no  better  girls  than  I  am.  I 
wonder  why  father  is  so  poor." 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Helen !"  said 
Julia,  running  to  greet  her  sister  the  moment 
she  opened  the  nursery  door.  "  The  baby  is 
so  cross  this  afternoon  that  I  can  not  keep 
him  still  at  all." 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  13 

*'I  do  not  believe  you  try  to  amuse  him, 
you  stupid  child,"  was  the  affectionate  re- 
sponse. "You  always  leave  every  thing  for 
me  to  do,  and  I  do  not  thank  you  at  all,  I 
am  tired  enough  already." 

"Are  you  too  tired  to  tell  me  a  story?"  said 
little  Charlie,  a  beautiful  little  curly-headed  ur- 
chin of  about  five  years,  ruiining  up  to  Helen, 
and  holding  up  his  rosebud  of  a  mouth  for  a 
kiss.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you  very  much,  sister, 
all  the  time  you  were  at  school,  and  now  you 
must  tell  me  a  real  pretty  story,  all  about  the 
faii-ies." 

"  Do  leave  me  alone,  Charlie.  You  think 
no  one  has  any  thing  to  do  but  to  tell  you 
stories.  It  is  tiresome  enough  for  me  to  take 
care  of  this  young  screamer;"  and  she  lifted 
the  little  one  from  his  crib  with  no  very  gen- 
tle hand.  "N^ow  run  away  children,  and  do 
not  make  any  noise.  You  are  the  crossest  boy 
I  ever  saw,  Charlie,"  she  continued,  as  that 
young  hopeful  resumed  his  race  up  and  down 
2 


14  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROK. 

the  room  on  an  imaginary  horse,  which  amuse- 
ment his  sister's  entrance  had  interrupted. 

"  I  think  she  is  very  cross,  herself,  and  I 
■do  not  love  her  any  more,"  whispered  little 
Charlie  to  his  more  indulgent  sister,  Julia. 
"I  am  sure  you  are  most  as  big  as  she  is, 
and  help  mamma  quite  as  much ;  yet  she 
calls  you  lazy  ancl  idle." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Charlie !  there 's  a  good  boy," 
replied  the  amiable  little  girl.  "  You  know 
she  is  not  always  cross.  Remember  the  day 
you  were  sick,  how  she  told  you  as  many 
stories  as  you  wanted  to  hear;  and  then  have 
you  forgotten  how  generous  she  was  to  me 
about  the  wax  doll  when  she  found  I  liked 
it,  and  how  she  said  I  must  have  it  because 
I  was  the  youngest?  I  guess  something  has 
happened  to  vex  her  just  now,  so  we  will 
go  and  play  Jack  Straws,  and  keep  as  quiet 
as  we  can."  And  the  children  seated  them- 
selves in  a  corner  with  their  books  and  toys. 

Helen,  with  her  httle  brother  in  her  arms, 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  15 

rocked  impatiently,  dwelling  upon  her  disap- 
pointment with  very  improper  resentment. 
But  as  his  cries  subsided  and  his  head  sank 
upon  her  arm,  her  tumultuous  thoughts  were 
hushed  into  a  calm.  She  could  not  gaze  upon 
the  innocent  little  sleeper  without  repenting 
of  the  bitter  mood  in  which  she  had  indulged. 
He  looked  so  pure  and  almost  holy  in  his  baby 
innocence,  and  such  a  sweet  smile  played  over 
his  rosy  lips  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  angels 
were  whispering  in  his  tiny  ear  of  a  brighter 
world — a  heavenly  home.  Who  can  soothe  a 
young  babe  to  rest  and  watch  the  lights  and 
shadows  flit  over  the  little  face,  and  not  be 
sensible  of  a  hallowed  influence  surrounding 
that  unconscious  form,  and  not  feel  their  un- 
holy and  worldly  thoughts  melt  away  in  the 
atmosphere  of  purity  and  innocence ! 

Child  as  she  was,  Helen  could  not  resist 
the  combined  influences  of  that  quiet,  hour 
and  affectionate  vigil.  The  whole  day  stood 
again  before  her  mind  and  she  was  not   sat- 


IQ  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

isfied  with  herself  upon  a  closer  inspection 
of  it. 

True,  she  had  been  late  at  school,  because 
her  mother  had  required  her  services  tUl  nine 
o'clock.  But  she  need  not  have  been  absent 
fi-om  her  arithmetic  class  had  she  not  Hngered 
80  long  on  the  corner  to  talk  to  Gracie  Lee. 
And,  although  Mr.  Jackson  reproved  her  for 
the  disorderly  appearance  of  her  copy-book 
when  she  presented  it  for  his  inspection,  she 
had  only  herself  to  blame.  For,  after  she  had 
tried  very  hard  to  write  well,  she  was  in  such 
a  hurry  to  enjoy  the  recess  that  she  closed  the 
book  too  hastily  and  blotted  her  very  fairest 
attempt. 

And  that  recess  had  not  been  very  profit- 
ably passed  either,  for  she  had  spent  the  whole 
time  in  talking  over  the  coming  hohdays  with 
Carrie  Wood  and  Annie  Sherwood,  two  vain, 
purse-proud  girls,  who  delighted  to  excite  her 
envy  by  picturing  to  her  pleasures  in  which 
she  could  never  share. 


CLEMENTIl^A'S    MIREOR.  17 

It  had  not  escaped  the  sensitive  Helen's 
notice,  that  Carrie  Wood  glanced  rather  con- 
temptuously at  her  plain  linen  collar,  as  she 
smoothed  her  own  elegantly  embroidered 
one,  and  that  Annie  Sherwood  rustled  her 
gay  silk  rather  more  than  was  necessary  as 
she  swept  by  her  in  her  dark  merino. 

Trifles  these  w-ere  in  themselves,  but  they 
had  dwelt  upon  the  mind  of  the  little  girl 
till  they  had  wrought  in  her  a  wonderful  dis- 
content with  her  own  lot,  and  had  caused 
her  to  give  way  to  one  of  those  fits  of  im- 
patience in  w'hich  she  was  too  apt  to  indulge 
when  any  thing  vexed  her. 

Helen  Grey  was  a  spoiled  child.  The  oldest, 
and  the  beauty  of  the  family,  she  had  always 
been  indulged  in  her  wishes  and  fancies  till 
she  had  become  rather  impatient  of  contradic- 
tion. She  had  hardly  ever  known  what  it 
was  to  have  a  desire  ungratified  till  lately,, 
since  Mr.  Grey,  from  some  pecuniary  losses,, 
had  been  obliged  to  reduce  his  style  of  living. 


18  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

Helen  was,  in  the  main,  a  good,  well-disposed 
girl,  and  assisted  her  mother  much  in  her  do- 
mestic duties.  But,  when  thrown  into  intimate 
contact  with  the  daughters  of  more  wealthy  par- 
ents, in  the  expensive  school  which  her  father 
still  thought  it  proper  for  her  to  attend,  she 
was  often  irritated  by  the  contrast  between 
their  elegant  attire  and  splendid  houses  and 
her  own  poverty  and  more  humble  home. 

Yet  Helen  had  no  real  cause  for  mortifica- 
tion. The  house  which  Mr.  Grey  had  chosen 
for  the  residence  of  himself  and  family  was 
rather  small,  it  is  tiue  ;  but  home  was  writ- 
ten upon  its  portals  in  characters  of  love. 
And,  though  the  interior  presented  no  gay 
furniture  and  labored  ornaments  to  the  eye 
of  curious  inspection,  yet  the  exquisite  taste 
and  perfect  adaptation  of  each  article  to  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  designed  ;  the  per- 
fect harmony  of  coloring  and  arrangement ; 
might  well  refresh  the  eye  of  any  whom  friend- 
ship might  induce  to  enter. 


CLEMENTIXA'S   MIRROE.  19 

Helen  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  perfectly 
conscious  of  some  of  the  advantages  which 
she  possessed  over  her  envied  school-mates. 
She  would  n«t  have  exchanged  her  own  re- 
fined and  lady-like  mamma  for  coarse,  vulgar 
Mrs.  Wood,  nor  her  kind,  dear  papa,  for  the 
stern,  forbidding  Mr.  Sherwood.  - 

She  could  not  be  altogether  unaware  of  the 
fact,  either,  that  her  rosy  cheeks  and  glossy 
ringlets  contrasted  very  favorably  with  Car- 
rie's sandy  hair  and  freckled  complexion,  and 
that  Annie's  rich  silk  robed  a  figure  which 
could  never  attain  the  symmetry  and  grace 
that  adorned  her  plainer  attire. 

Some  day,  little  Helen,  you  will  find  that 
the  good  things  of  this  life  are  more  evenly 
distributed  than  you  now  think.  Seldom  does 
fortune  lavish  all  her  choice  gifts  upon  the 
same  person. 

^ow  let  me  try  to  picture  to  you  my  youth- 
ful heroine,  as  she  sits  in  her  little  rocking- 
chair,    gazing  into  the  fire.      There   is  grace 


20  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

both  in  her  form  and  attitude.  Affection 
softens  those  hazel  eyes  into  an  expression 
perfectly  bewitching  in  tenderness  as  she  sup- 
ports in  her  arms  the  baby  brother  whom 
she  60  fondly  loves ;  the  light  brown  ringlets 
droop  over  an^  partly  shade  a  brow  upon 
which  is  stamped  both  intellect  and  resolu- 
tion ;  while  the  face,  but  half  revealed  by 
that  fitful  fire-light,  is  almost  perfect  in  fea- 
ture and  outline.     Helen  is  very  beautiful. 

She  is  indulging  in  no  very  pleasant  feel- 
ings, hoAvever,  just  at  this  moment.  Only 
the  good  can  be  truly  happy,  and  she  is  con- 
scious that  she  has  wandered  far  from  the 
path  of  right.  She  sees  too  plainly  now,  that 
by  her  own  tardiness  she  lost  .her  standing 
in  the  class ;  by  her  own  heedlessness  she  of- 
fended her  kind  writing-master ;  by  her  own 
weak  love  of  gossip  she  exposed  herself  tc 
scorn  and  humiliation,  and  by  indulging  en- 
vious thoughts  she  has  even  been  led  to  be 
unkind  to    dear    mamma,    who    is    constantly 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  21 

laboring  for  her  benefit,  and  never  speaks  to 
her  but  in  love ;  and  she  has  grieved  the  lov- 
ing little  ones  who  so  looked  forward  to  her 
return  from  school. 

"I  am  sure  I  must  have  offended  mamma 
deeply.  Will  she  ever  forgive  me?  How 
shall  I  meet  her  again  ?  But  it  is  useless 
to  spend  my  time  here  in  thinking  over  evils; 
I  had  better  try  to  atone  to  these  little  ones," 
sighed  Helen,  awaking  from  her  reverie. 

Gently  depositing  her  precious  burden  in 
the  crib,  she  called  the  children  to  her  side, 
and  they,  soon  discovering  her  changed  mood, 
hastened  to  accept  her  invitation.  She  drew 
her  sister  to  her  and  strove  by  an  affection- 
ate caress  to  make  amends  for  her  former 
unldndness ;  while  Charlie  was  soon  made  so 
completely  happy  by  wonderful  accounts  of 
fairy  land  that  he  enthusiastically  declared 
that  Helen  was  the  prettiest,  and  dearest,  and 
best  sister  in  the  world. 

"  I  must  say  that  I  quite  agree  with  Charlie," 


22  CLEMENTINA^S   MIBKOR. 

said  a  dignified  looking  man,  who  had  entered 
in  time  to  hear  this  last  remark,  though  so 
quietly  that  he  had  not  been  observed  by 
the  children.  "At  least  I  can  vouch  for  her 
being  the  dearest  of  daughters. 

"  But  you  must  not  let  this  boisterous  little 
fellow  impose  upon  your  good  nature,  Helen," 
mid  he  pinched  the  little  rogue's  ruddy  cheek 
with  an  expression  that  was  very  far  from 
disapprobation  of  his  eagerness.  "  My  Lily, 
too,  is  an  interested  listener,  I  think,  though 
she  is  not  so  importunate  in  petitioning  for 
your  fancy  sketches,"  he  continued,  seating 
himself  beside  Helen  and  drawing  the  fairy- 
like Julia  upon  his  knee. 

[Lily  was  the  pet  name  usually  chosen  in 
the  home  circle  for  this  younger  daughter. 
Almost  every  voice  unconsciously  softened  in 
pronouncing  it,  for  her  transparent  complex- 
ion and  almost  perfect  character  marked  her 
as  not  long  for  this  world.] 

"  Come,  go  on  daughter,  do  not  let  papa 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIEEOK.  23 

interrupt  you,"  he  said,  turning  again  to- 
wards Helen  with  a  glance  of  fond  approba- 
tion. 

But  Helen  could  not  go  on.  Her  father's 
loving  praise,  of  which  she  was  so  unworthy, 
struck  her  to  the  heart ;  and  murmuring  a 
few  words  about  being  too  tired  to  talk  any 
more,  she  tried  to  draw  herself  into  the  shade 
and  thus  to  screen  herself  from  his  observa- 
tion. 

Mr.  Grey  observed  her  confusion,  but  not 
wishing  to  force  her  confidence,  did  not  no- 
tice it  by  any  particular  remark.  He  con- 
versed with  the  younger  children  till  they 
were  all  summoned  to  the  dining-room  by 
the  sound  of  the  bell. 

What  a  social  meal  this  same  tea  always 
is  to  the  loving  family  group!  How  delight- 
ful to  the  weary  man  after  a  day  of  care  and 
toil  to  throw  off  all  thought  of  that  engross- 
ing business,  to  yield  himself  to  the  gentle 
attentions  of  his  loving  wife,  and  amuse  him- 


24  CLEMENTINA'S   MIBROE, 

self  by  listening  to  the  merry  prattle  of  his 
little  ones. 

How  delightful  to  that  loving  wife  thus  to 
minister  to  those  who  are  dearer  to  her  than 
all  the  world  beside !  How  dehghtful  to  those 
little  ones  to  expand  the  blossoms  of  their 
young  affections  in  such  an  atmosphere  of 
love!  Has  earth  pleasures  purer,  sweeter, 
deeper  than  these? 

But  on  this  evening  there  was  an  unusual  air 
of  constraint  pervading  the  little  band  gathered 
around  the  cheerful  board.  Helen,  whose  high 
spirits  made  her  the  life  and  the  light  of  her 
home  was  uncommonly  silent  and  reserved. 

She  could  not  meet  her  mother's  eye,  for  she 
remembered  too  well  her  disrespectful  treat- 
ment of  her  but  a  few  short  hours  before, 
and  she  shrank  from  her  father's  approving 
glance,  for  she  felt  as  if  she  were  deceiving 
him  into  an  affection,  which,  could  he  but 
read  the  secrets  of  her  wicked  heart,  he  would 
at  once  with<lraw. 


CaJSMENTINA'S   MIRKOE.  §# 

She  forgot  the  All-seeing  Eye  before  which 
tiie  secrets  of  that  guilty  heart  stood  revealed 
in  clear  and  distinct  characters.  She  forgot 
that  a  Being  perfectly  just,  and  good,  and 
holy,  could  read  each  impure  thought  and 
unhallowed  feeling. 

Charlie  began  to  droop  soon  after  the  tea 
things  were  removed,  and  the  father,  having 
knelt  and  commended  his  loved  ones  to  the 
protection  of  an  all-merciful  God,  told  the 
children  that  it  was  tinie  for  them  to  retire. 

Helen,  with  the  same  unusual  reserve,  bade 
her  parents  a  quiet  good  night  and  left  the 
room.  But  before  she  sought  her  own,  she 
went,  as  was  her  custom,  to  see  the  younger 
ones  safely  deposited  in  their  nest. 

Mamma  had  given  the  little  pet  of  all  a 
place  upon  the  sitting-room  sofa,  that  she  and 
papa  might  watch  his  slumbers,  as  they  passed 
the  quiet  evening  together,  so  the  children 
found  the  nursery  unoccupied. 

The  moon  peeped  in  at  the  window  with 


26  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR. 

her  pale  face,  and,  aided  by  the  fire's  fitful 
beams,  made  the  room  so  light  that  Helen 
thought  she  could  dispense  with  the  lamp  that 
was  usually  allowed  to  burn  till  her  mother 
came  to  her  room,  which  opened  into  this 
larger  apartment. 

Julia  was  soon  stowed  away  in  a  comfort- 
able pile  of  blankets,  but  Charlie  was  in  a 
very  wakeful  and  inquiring  mood.  He  wished 
to  know  who  made  that  pretty  moon;  how 
it  could  stay  away  up  there  in  the  sky  with- 
out falling ;  and  whether  Helen  really  thought 
it  was  any  larger  than  papa's  globe  down 
stairs  ? 

Upon  her  assuring  him  that  it  was,  he  re- 
fused to  believe  it,  and  thought  after  all  he 
must  ask  papa  about  it. 

Helen  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  him 
sufficiently  composed  to  repeat  his  evening 
prayer.  And  a  pretty  sight  it  was  to  see 
the  little  fellow  striving  to  settle  his  merry 
fece  into  a  demure  expression,  as,  with  clasped 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOR.  27 

hands,  he  knelt  at  his  sister's  feet  to  say  his 
infant  prayer,  dimly  conscious  of  the  infinite 
majesty  of  the  Being  he  was  about  to  ad- 
dress. 

The  moonbeams  played  among*  his  golden 
curls,  shedding  a  sort  of  halo  around  his  head ; 
the  little  bare  feet  fairly  glistened  in  their 
silver  whiteness,  and,  as  he  offered  up  his 
childish  petition  at  heaven's  throne,  in  simple 
faith,  we  might  well  imagine  the  angels  weep- 
ing with  joy  at  such  a  spectacle. 

Helen  thought  he  had  concluded,  when, 
glancing  up  into  her  face  with  a  ha5f-playful, 
half-subdued  expression,  he  said,  "May  Char- 
lie say  one  more,  sister?" 

And  receiving  a  silent  assent,  he  contin- 
ued : 

"God  bless  dear  papa,  and  mamma,  and 
all  my  dear  friends.  God  bless  Charlie  and 
make  him  a  good  boy,  and  make  sister  Hel- 
en a  good  boy,  too.  You  were  not  quite 
good  all  day,  were  you  sister?" 


28  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRKOR. 

She  could  not  resist  this.  Catcbmg  the 
little  rogue  in  her  arms,  she  covered  him 
with  kisses ;  but  a  close  observer  might  have 
seen  glittering  drops  upon  the  boy's  golden 
tresses,  and  kindred  gems  on  his  young  sis- 
ter's  cheek. 


CHAPTER    IT 


HAT  is  the  matter  with  Helen, 
I  wonder  ?"  said  Mr.  Grey  anx- 
iously, as  the  door  closed  after 
the  children.  "Has  her  sensi- 
tive spirit  been  again  wounded 
by  any  fancied  neglect  ?" 

"  I  presume  something  has  occurred  to  try 
her,"  replied  his  wife ;  "  but  I  do  not  know 
exactly  where  the  trouble  lies.  She  has  been 
very  irritable  all  the  afternoon,  and  now,  I 
think,  feels  sorry  for  her  conduct." 

"Yes,  yes,  she  is  always  very  penitent  after 
any  exhibition  of  temper,  but  it  is  sometimes 
too  late  then  to  remedy  the  mischief  she  has 
done,"  said  Mr.  Grey.  "  I  do  wish  the  poor 
child  could  attain  a  little  more  self-control. 
If  she  had  only  inherited  your  disposition, 
love,  I  should  be  more  than  satisfied." 
3* 


30  CLEMENTINA'S    MIEEOE. 

Mi'S.  Grey  smiled,  for,  in  truth,  this  very 
weakness  was  a  part  of  her  character,  but  it 
was  so  disciplined  and  kept  in  subjection  that 
the  partner  had  never  discovered  it.  With 
all  a  mother's  partiality  she  tried  to  excuse 
her  daughter. 

"  Helen  is  veiy  young  yet,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  can  not  but  hope  that  she  will  correct  all 
her  faults  in  time.  She  has  a  depth  and 
brilliancy  of  character  that  astonishes  me  at 
times,  well  as  I  know  her.  I  have  sometimes 
doubted  the  propriety  of  sending  her  among 
companions  so  differently  situated  in  life  from 
herself" 

"  Nonsense,  wife,  do  not  talk  in  that  strain 
if  you  would  have  me  listen  with  patience. 
Helen  is  a  lady  by  birth,  and  I  intend  she 
shall  be  one  by  education.  She  will  proba- 
bly go  into  the  very  first  society,  as  that  is 
the  circle  in  which  we  have  always  moved, 
though  we  have  been  rather  shut  out  from 
it  of  late  by  your  poor  health  and  our  many 


CLEMENTEyA'S   MIBEOE.  31 

cares.  Helen  must  be  highly  accomplished. 
A  good  education  is  all  I  may  have  to  leave 
her.  She  has  biiUiant  talents  and  may  be 
dependent  upon  her  own  exertions  for  sup- 
port some  day.  I  can  not  keep  her  from 
all  contact  with  purse-proud  selfishness  if  she 
is  to  mingle  with  the  world,  nor  do  I  desire 
to  do  BO.  The  mere  circumstance  of  her 
poverty  would  not  deter  any  one  from  seek- 
ing her  society,  whose  acquaintance  I  should 
desire  her  to  cultivate,  and  she  must  have 
a  soul  above  being  wounded  by  the  shafts 
of  vulgarity  and  insolence.  I  do  not  alto- 
gether like  this  over-sensitiveness,  either,  and 
therefore  w^ill  not  indulge  her  in  it.  This 
very  jarring  I  look  upon  as  rather  an  ad- 
vantage than  otherwise,  as  it  will  reveal  to 
her,  her  own  weakness,  and  by  rubbing  off 
these  soft  spots  in  her  character,  mould  it 
into  a  harmonious  and  polished  beauty." 

The  mother  made  no   reply.     She  thought 
her  husband  right  in  the  main,  but  she  knew 


$2  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

that  though  it  is  easy  for  man  to  be  self- 
reliant  and  impervious  to  uncongenial  na- 
tures, it  is  the  hardest  lesson  that  woman 
can  learn.  Mr.  Grey  was  fond  and  proud 
of  his  daughter,  but  a  chord  thrilled  in  her 
mother's  breast  responsive  to  the  finer  fibers 
and  softer  strains  of  her  nature.  The  im- 
patience of  control,  the  lofty  intellect  and 
sparkling  wit  were  inherited  from  her  father, 
but  the  loving  heart,  the  bewitching  grace, 
and  the  sensitive  spirit,  were  a  reflection  of 
her  mother's  nature. 

Mr.  Grey  was  soon  lost  in  the  details 
of  his  newspaper,  and  thought  no  more  ol 
so  slight  a  matter.  Mrs.  Grey  laid  aside 
her  sewing  and  sought  her  daughter's  apart- 
ment. 

She  found  Helen  in  tears,  as  she  expected ; 
she  could  not  sleep  under  a  sense  of  her 
mother's  displeasure,  and  she  dared  not  seek 
her  presence  again  that  evening.  Kneeling 
in    the   moonlight   and   gazing   out   upon   the 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOE.  33 

pure  beauty  of  the  night,  she  was  forming 
new  resolutions  for  her  future  guidance. 

"My  dear  child,"  said  a  gentle  voice — 
and  her  mother  stood  beside  her — "are  you 
weeping  because  you  have  offended  me  ? 
Weep  rather  that  you  have  sinned  against 
God." 

Helen  was  soon  seated  by  her  mother's 
side  and  closely  clasped  to  her  heart,  while 
she  poured  into  her  sympathizing  ear  the 
story  of  the  day — all  the  little  trials  she  had 
met  with. 

"Did  you  seek  the  aid  of  your  heavenly 
Father  in  spending  this  day  aright  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Grey,  when  Helen  had  concluded  and 
begged  her  forgiveness.  "Did  you  give  your 
first  waking  thoughts  to  Him,  and  implore 
Him  to  fill  your  heart  with  good  desires, 
and  to  enable  you  to  walk  in  His  way? 
Did  you  consider  His  claim  upon  your  best 
affections,  and  strive  to  fix  them  upon  your 
crucified  Saviour?" 


84  CLEMBNTINA'S   MIRBOK. 

Helen  was  obliged  to  confess,  in  a  confused 
whisper',  that  she  was  in  such  a  hurry  to 
finish  a  French  exercise  that  she  had  neglect- 
ed her  morning  devotions. 

"  Here,  then,  is  the  source  of  all  your 
troubles,  my  poor  child !  Beginning  the  day 
wrong,  how  could  you  expect  to  pass  it 
profitably,  and  end  it  pleasantly?  If  you 
attempt  to  walk  through  life  in  your  own 
strength,  it  is  no  wonder  that  you  stumble 
and  fall  by  the  way.  If  you  can  prove  thus 
ungrateful  to,  and  forgetful  of,  your  heavenly 
Father,  who  has  so  flooded  all  your  days 
with  mercy,  is  it  wonderful  that  you  should 
not  hesitate  to  grieve  your  earthly  parent? 
My  forgiveness  is  yours,  my  dear  Helen ; 
now,  let  lis  seek  His  throne  together,  and 
implore  pardon  for  our  many  transgressions. 

They  knelt  side  by  side,  and  most  earnest- 
ly did  the  mother  plead  "for  forgiveness  of 
past  wanderings,  and  strength  in  future  temp- 
tations ;  most  fervently  did  she  pray  for  the 


CLEMENTIKA'S   MIRROE.  35 

outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  her  daugh- 
ter's heart. 

Helen's  tears  flowed  afresh,  but  now  from 
a  deeper  source.  She  began  to  realize  that 
she  had  hitherto  rejected  a  Saviour's  love. 
She  felt,  for  the  first  time,  that  she  was  His, 
bought  with  a  price,  and  that  she  had  lived 
and  acted  as  if  she  were  her  own.  Her 
wanderings  had  been  even  wider  than  she 
had  thought. 

The  child's  heart  seemed  borne  up  on  the 
wings  of  the  mother's  prayer,  the  darker 
spirit  seemed  carried  onward  by  the  renewed 
and  sanctified  till  it  caught  a  view  of  the 
bright,  eternal  glories  of  the  unseen  world ; 
till  the  merciful  and  infinite  Jehovah  stood 
revealed  in  His  wonderful  attractions,  and 
the  rays  of  love  pouring  from  the  Sun  of 
righteousness  into  her  sin-defiled  heart,  re- 
vealed its  depths  of  wickedness  and  folly. 

A  solemn  pause  succeeded ;  and  then,  hav- 
ing tenderly  embraced  her  darling,  and  seen 


86  CLEMENTINA'S   MIBBOB. 

her  head  reposing  upon  her  pillow,  Mra. 
Grey  left  her,  we  trust  with  a  heart  filled 
with  higher  aspirations  and  holier  emotions. 
And  her  good  resolutions  now  being  laid  in 
a  deeper  foundation,  even  the  love  of  God, 
will  not,  we  trust,  be  so  easily  laid  aside 
and  broken ;  though  many  a  hard  struggle 
is  before  her  ere  she  shall  gain  the  victory 
in  the  fight  against  sin. 


CHAPTER    III. 


^ERRY  Chidstmas,  Meny  Chidst^ 
mas,  dear  papa !"  cried  Julia  and 
Charlie  in  a  breath,  as  they  in- 
vaded their  father's  room  about 
four  o'clock  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing, and  interrupted  a  very  comfortable  nap 
in  which  he  was  indulging. 

"Fairly  caught,  youngsters,"  he  said,  "and 
cheated  out  of  my  night's  rest  into  the  bar- 
gain ;"  but  he  did  not  have  much  time  to 
express  his  regrets. 

"  Oh,  Santa  Claus  is  such  a  good  man,  he 
has  brought  so  many  nice  things  to  Charlie," 
exclaimed  that  young  gentleman,  seating  him- 
self by  his  father's  side,  while  Julia  had  crept 
into  her  mother's  arms.  "  So  many  things," 
he  continued ;  "  a  whistle,  and  a  trumpet, 
and  a  drum," — "and  a  doll,  and  a  baby-house, 


88  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR. 

and  a  tea-set,"  struck  in  little  Julia," — "  and 
a  hobby-horse,  and  some  blocks," — "  and  some 
books,  and  some  tea-spoons," — "and  a  ball," 
— "  and  some  graces," — "  and  a  cane," — "  and 
a  jumping-rope," — 

"  One  at  a  time,  one  at  a  time,  I  shall 
be  deafened  if  this  chorus  continues  much 
longer,"  pleaded  papa.  But  remonstrances 
were  unavailing.  He  must  try  Charlie's  trum- 
pet, and  he  must  admire  Julia's  doll ;  and 
then  the  demonstrations  becoming  too  noisy 
to  be  longer  endured,  he  ordered  them  back 
to  the  nursery  to  dress,  and  then  to  the  sit- 
ting room,  where  he  promised  to  meet  them 
very  soon. 

I  fear  the  dressing  must  have  been  a  very 
hurried  affair,  for  though  he  hastened  down, 
they  were  there  before  him,  and  had  man 
aged  to  arrange  all  the  choice  articles  in  a 
row  for  his  inspection  ;  and  much  astonished 
he  was,  as  you  may  imagine,  and  dreadfully 
jealous  because  there  was  nothing  for  him. 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIKROE.  3& 

"Merry  Christmas !  dear  papa,"  said  Helen, 
entering  with  her  mother  just  in  time  to 
catch  the  last  words,  upon  hearing  which  she 
exchanged  a  meaning  smile  with  Julia. 

"Merry  Christmas,  my  darling!"  he  re- 
plied, drawing  her  to  him,  and  imprinting  a 
kiss  upon  her  fair  brow ;  "  yon,  too,  have 
been  remembered  I  hope?" 

"More  bountifully  than  I  deserve,"  said 
Helen,  displaying  a  beautiful  rose- wood  writ- 
ing-desk, and  two  elegantly  bound  volumes 
of  poems. 

"I  don't  think  Helen's  things  are  half  as 
pretty  as  mine ;  I  don't  like  books,"  said 
Charlie,  sounding  an  alarming  flourish  on  his 
drum. 

"Oh,  I  do,"  said  JuHa,  "but  I  think  mine 
are  rather  the  prettiest.  I  do  like  fairy  sto- 
ries so."  This  was  said  with  a  deprecating 
glance  at  Helen. 

"That  is  right,  my  children;  I  am  glad 
to   see   every   one   so   well   satisfied   with   his 


40  CLEMENTINA'S    MIREOR. 

owD,"  said  Mr.  Grey.  "And  now  to  break* 
fast,  for  my  early  rising  hue  somewhat  sharp- 
ened my  appetite." 

"  Wait  papa,  Charlie 's  coming,"  and  the 
little  fellow  trotted  along  till  he  caught  up 
with  papa,  who  mounted  him  on  his  shoul- 
der to  the  young  rogue's  entire  satisfaction. 
"  Hurry  mamma,"  he  continued,  "  there  's 
chicken  for  breakfast,  and  pumpkin  pie; 
cook  said   so." 

"Hey-day,  what's  all  this!"  cried  Mr. 
Grey,  as  a  small  package  on  his  plate  and 
a  larger  one  beside  it,  attracted  his  atten- 
tion. 

''Oh  papa,  Santa  Glaus  has  left  you  some- 
thing after  all,"  said  Charlie ;  "  do  open  it 
quick,  please,  and  see  if  there 's  any  can- 
dy." 

"A  pair  of  embroidered  slippers,  and  a 
pen-wiper!  Let  me  put  on  my  spectacles 
to  see  who  this  is  from.  'For  papa,  from 
his    loving    daughters.'      I    thank   my    loving 


clementixa's  mieroe.  41 

daughters  very  much,"  with  a  playful  bow 
to  each. 

"  So  much  for  one  parcel,  now  for  the 
other.  'From  your  loving  wife.'  A  dozen 
handkerchiefs.  "Well  done  wife,  that  is  just 
like  you,  ever  sensible  and  thoughtful,  look- 
ing after  the  useful." 

"I  must  ask  you  all  to  see  what  Santa 
Claus  has  don^  for  me  now,"  said  Mrs.  Grey, 
lifting  a  parcel  from  her  plate. 

"  '  For  mamma,  from  Helen.'  What  a  beau- 
tiful pin-cushion  !  Thank  you,  my  love ;  I  do 
not  see  how  you  could  have  made  this  pretty 
gift  without  my  knowledge.  'From  Lily.' 
Ah,  Lily,  I  wondered  what  had  become  of 
that  gold-piece  that  grandpa  gave  you ;  this 
silver  card-case  explains  the  mystery.  I  won^ 
der  what  this  little  box  contains.  'From  a 
loving  husband  to  his  own  dear  wife.'  A 
pearl  breast-pin!  Why  love,  how  could 
you  ?" 

*'  Not  another  word,  wife,  if  you  please.. 
4* 


42  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE. 

Remember  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year. 
By-the-by,  this  chicken  looks  very  tempting, 
and  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  I  have 
an  uncommon  appetite  this  morning." 

"  I  will  give  you  my  trumpet,  papa,  and 
mamma  shall  have  my  drum,"  here  broke  in 
Charlie,  who  had  been  rather  mortified  that 
he  had  taken  no  part  in  these  pleasant  sur- 
piises. 

This  generous  offer  occasioned  a  hearty 
laugh,  as  they  all  took  theu'  places  at  the 
table. 


CHAPTER    lY. 

AM    afraid    the    girls    will    disappoint 
us,  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Grey,  as  they 
concluded  their  repast.     "They  must 
have   been   here  before  this  time,  if 
they  started  yesterday." 
*'I    rather    think    you    are    mistaken,    my 
dear,"    said   Mrs.   Grey.      "  They  may  possi- 
bly have  been   detained  on  the  road,  owing 
to  the  late  storm." 

"  There  they  are  now !"  cried  Helen,  start- 
ing from  her  seat  as  a  loud  ring  of  the 
door-bell  announced  an  arrival.  "No  one 
else  would  come  so  early  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing.   They  are  come  !" 

"  They  are  come !  They  are  come !"  ech- 
oed Charlie  and  Julia  at  the  top  of  their 
lungs,  as  they  ran  to  greet  their  cousins;  and 
such   a    kissing,   and   embracing,   and   reitera- 


44  cuBOBrrDrA's  mtreob. 

tion  of  Merry  Christmas  and  heart-felt  wel- 
comes were  never  heard  except  on  ^imili^r 
occasions. 

Papa  and  manmia  stood  by,  smiling  to 
>ee  snch  beaming  countenances,  and  listen- 
ing with  delight  to  the  youthful  voice*,  till 
the  excitement  had  in  some  measure  sub- 
sided,  when  theT  too  claimed  each  a  loving 
kiss  from  their  nieces,  and  tried  to  ascertain 
whether  they  had  been  to  break^t,  and  how 
it  happened  that  they  did  not  arrive  yester- 
day. 

*'  You  see.  Aunt  Mary,"  said  Harriet,  "  we 
could  not  all  leave  home  at  once,  so  papa 
could  not  come  with  us.  He  knew  that 
Mr.  Watson  was  coming  on  to  spend  the 
holidays  with  his  sister,  so  he  asked  him 
to  take  charge  of  us,  Mr.  Watson  was 
detained  at  Newark  on  business,  and  we 
could  not  succeed  in  getting  here  till  this 
morning.'* 

"And  we  are  real  glad  to  see   Von  aU  afc 


CLEME>"TrSA  S    MIEEOE.  45 

last,"  exclaimed  May.  **  I  ihoaght  Chiist- 
mas  would  never  come  this  year." 

"Well,  girls,  and  we  are  glad  to  have 
YOU  with  us,-'  said  their  uncle.  "But  now 
go  to  your  rooms  and  rest  a  little  while, 
for  church  begins  at  eleven,  and  I  do  not 
wish  you  to  be  too  tired  to  enjoy  the  ser- 
vices.' 

Vain,  however,  was  all  effort  to  restore 
order  till  the  whole  party  were  dre^ed  for 
church,  and  a  pretty  sight  it  was  to  see 
such  a  gi"oup  of  youthful  facvs  assembled 
together. 

Papa's  eye  glanced  over  his  party  with  a 
Tery  evident  expression  of  pride  and  satis- 
faction. Though  plainly  attired,  you  would 
seldom  see  more  attractive  girls  than  the 
four  before  him.  Helen's  glossy  ringlets  and 
dark  eyes  served  to  set  off  May*s  flaxen 
tresses  and  merry  blue  eyes  to  still  greater 
advantage,  while  Hattie's  dark  complexion  and 
glowing  cheeks  appeared   more  brilliant   than 


46  Clementina's  mirror. 

usual,  when  contrasted  with  Julia's  almost 
angelic  face  and  pure  Madonna  expression. 

There  were  some  doubts  expressed  as  to 
the  propriety  of  Charlie  being  allowed  to 
make  one  of  the  company,  but  that  young 
man  was  so  earnest  and  decided  in  his  wish 
to  see  the  church  in  its  Christmas  dress  that 
his  mother  yielded  to  his  entreaties. 

And,  could  we  take  one  httle  peep  into 
the  heart  of  each  of  that  family  group,  we 
should  see  a  greater  contrast  there  than  we 
have  found  in  their  outward  appearance. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grey,  as  they  entered  the 
sacred  edifice,  experienced  feelings  of  grati- 
tude mingled  with  awe ;  gratitude,  that  they 
were  permitted  to  come  up  another  year 
before  the  Lord  in  such  circumstances  of 
worldly  comfoii;,  and  awe,  in  view  of  the 
wonderful  mercy  and  goodness  of  God,  in 
having  renewed  and  sanctified  them  by  His 
Holy  Spirit,  and  revealed  to  them  the  rich 
provisions  of  redeeming  love  when  they  were 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  47 

conscious  that  they  had  so  often  wandered 
from  His  ways,  and  made  to  themselves  idols 
of  the  things  of  this  world. 

Helen's  soul  was  flooded  w^ith  a  heavenly 
peace  as  she  felt,  for  the  first  time,  that  a 
Saviour  was  indeed  born  this  day  unto  her. 

Julia,  as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  inscrip- 
tion, "  The  Lord  is  in  His  holy  temple  ;  let 
all  the  earth  keep  silence  before  Him" — to 
inscribe  which  text  upon  the  sacred  walls  the 
evergreen  had  not  unfittingly  been  chosen — 
sank  upon  her  knees  w4th  a  devout  con- 
sciousness of  that  overwhelming   Presence. 

While  May  and  Hattie,  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  looking  around  them  to  pay  much 
attention  to  any  thing  serious,  were  only  con- 
scious of  the  delightful  melody  of  the  anthem 
and  the  beautiful  appearance  of  the  church. 

The  service  ended,  the  children  once  more 
gathered  around  the  cheerful  hearth.  The 
Christmas  gifts  were  again  produced,  and  ex- 
amined  and   admired.      The   games   were    all 


48  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

tried  to  the  infinite  satisfjiction  of  the  little 
ones,  and  all  was  gayety  and  happiness.  But 
when  evening  came,  their  spirits  seemed  to 
languish. 

"  What  shall  we  do  this  evening,  girls  ?" 
asked  Helen,  as  the  lamps  were  brought  and 
the  blinds  closed.  "I  have  exhausted  every 
thing  that  I  can  think  of,  and  I  must  be 
excused  from  any  further  efforts.  Who  hns 
any  thing  to  propose  for  our  entertainment  ?" 

"I  have,"  said  May  Elliott,  bounding  from 
her  seat  and  going  toward  Mrs.  Grey  with 
a  look  of  earnest  entreaty.  "Aunt  Mary 
shall  tell  us  a  story." 

*'  Oh  yes,"  they  cried  in  a  breath,  delighted 
with  the  happy  suggestion.  "That  is  the 
vei^y  thing  ;  a  story,  a  story." 

"  Please  to  say  yes,  mamma,"  said  Julia,  seat- 
ing herself  on  a  little  bench  at  her  mother's  feet. 

"Please,  mamma,"  lisped  Charlie,  climbing 
into  her  lap  and  leaning  his  little  curly  head 
against  her  shoulder. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIKROR.  49 

"  Well,  I  think  I  will  indulge  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Grey,  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "Knowing 
your  fondness  for  stories,  I  have  composed  one 
on  puropse  for  your  entertainment  during  this 
visit.  But  it  is  a  very  long  one,  so  I  can  not 
read  it  all  at  once;  but  I  must  give  you  a  por- 
tion of  it  every  evening  during  the  week." 

*'  That  is  all  the  better,  dear  mamma,"  said 
Helen,  kissing  her.  "Now  we  shall  every 
day  have  a  new  pleasure  to  look  forward  to. 
Won't  it  be  perfectly  lovely,  girls  ?  How  can 
we  thank  you  enough  for  being  so  kind,  dear 
mamma  ?" 

"  Never  mind  thanking  me  now,  love ;  but 
wait  till  you  see  if  my  production  is  interesting. 
I  think  your  cousins  seem  impatient  for  me  to 
begin,  so  hand  me  the  manuscript  you  will  find 
in  my  work-table  drawer." 

Helen   soon   found   it,  and  all  the  children 
gathered  closely  around  Mrs.  Grey  and  listened 
with  breathless  eagerness  while  she  read. 
5 


CHAPTER    V. 

Clcmtiiiiim's  glirror ;  or,  §\%  Glimpses  of  I'ife. 

f^  NEVER  saw  aoy  one  so  unfortunate 
as  I  am,"  sighed  Clementina,  as  she 
sauntered  away  fi'om  the  house  one 
pleasant  morning  in  summer.  "  Here 
am  I,  young,  gay,  and  pretty,  and  yet 
compelled  to  waste  my  existence  in  this  lonely 
place  ;  while  thousands  no  more  desei-ving  of 
fortune  than  I  am,  are  rolling  in  riches,  and 
followed,  courted,  and  admired. 

**  I  should  like  to  go  to  this  grand  ball  next 
month,  if  it  were  only  to  see  how  it  would 
seem  to  go  to  a  ball ;  but  then  I  know  I  can 
not  have  any  thing  decent  to  appear  in,  and 
one  always  likes  to  be  as  well  dressed  as  other 
people.  I  wish  I  could  be  a  queen  just  for  one 
day,  or  better  still,  that  there  were  fairies  in 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  51 

these  days  to  grant  our  wishes.  I  should  know 
pretty  well  what  to  ask  for  if  one  should  appear 
to  me. 

As  the  young  girl  murmured  thus  to  herself, 
she  entered  the  wood  that  was  near  her  moth- 
er's cottage.  She  was  so  buried  in  her  own 
reflections  that  she  took  any  path  at  random, 
till,  waking  from  her  reverie,  she  found  herself 
in  a  part  of  the  forest  she  had  never  visited 
before. 

She  was  about  turning  to  try  to  find  some 
familiar  object,  when  she  started  with  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise  and  admiration. 

Before  her  rose  a  bower  of  wild  clematis  and 
roses  intermingled.  The  honey-suckle  drooped 
its  graceful  blossoms  from  the  neighboring 
trees,  birds  of  varied  and  brilliant  plumage 
warbled  among  the  branches,  and  near  by  a 
little  brook  responded  with  its  rippling  song, 
as  it  danced  merrily  over  the  pebbles,  that 
sparkled  through  the  watery  vail.  There  had 
been  a  recent  shower,  and  raiti-drops  still  hung 


52  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROK. 

upon  flower  and  bough,  taking  the  hues  of  the 
rambow,  and  lookmg  like  jewels  in  the  sun- 
light. 

Clementina  thought  she  had  never  seen  any 
thing  so  lovely  as  the  peaceful  scene  before  her, 
and  yielding  her  heart  entirely  to  the  spell,  she 
forgot  her  dreams  of  ambition  and  envy,  and 
the  murmurs  of  discontent  died  within  her. 

Entering  the  bower  that  looked  so  inviting, 
she  threw  herself  upon  a  grassy  mound  and 
gave  herself  up  to  a  feeling  of  enjoyment  and 
repose.  She  listened  to  the  joyous  melody  of 
the  birds  and  inhaled  the  deUcious  perfume  of 
the  flowers,  till  her  senses  were  completely 
lulled  by  the  enervating  influence,  and  she  slept. 

Was  she  dreaming,  or  did  she  distinguish 
silvery  voices  mingling  with  the  grosser  music 
of  the  birds  ?  She  strained  her  ear  to  catch 
the  notes  of  the  invisible  songsters,  and  dis- 
tinctly heard  the  following  verse  : 

"  Say,  mortal  maid,  what  seek  you  here, 
Mid  beings  of  another  sphere  ? 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIKKOR.  63 

A  thousand  elves  of  fairy  land 
Dance  o'er  these  hills  a  jovial  band. 
The  turf  where  you  now  rest  your  head, 
No  human  foot  has  dared  to  tread ; 
The  song  of  yonder  beauteous  bird 
No  mortal  ear  hath  ever  heard ; 
The  fragrant  breath  of  these  bright  flowers 
Ne'er  reached  another  sense  than  ours : 
Presuming  maiden,  speak  thy  mind, 
Then  go — nor  cast  a  glance  behind." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  where  are  you  ?  beautiful 
fairy,"  said  Clementina,  gazing  around  her  in 
bewilderment.    "  Who  is  it  that  addresses  me  ?" 

The  voic'.fi  continued  : 


"  Seek  not  to  know  me,  maiden  fair, 
I'm  neither  of  the  earth  nor  air ; 
For  ever  my  dominions  sleep 
'Neath  the  vast  curtain  of  the  deep ; 
My  palaces  are  formed  of  pearl, 
Around  their  towers  the  sea-weeds  curl, 
Naught  visible  to  mortal  sight, 
Reflects  upon  their  walls  of  light ; 
And  0*1  we  seek  this  upper  earth 
To  see  what  its  rude  joys  are  worth. 
'Tis  here  we  hold  our  fairy  court, 
Here  revel  in  our  midnight  sport." 
4* 


«54  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKROR. 

"  Take,  oh  take  me  with  you  to  your  domin- 
ions in  the  deep,"  said  the  young  girl,  as  the 
voice  again  ceased ;  her  curiosity  so  strongly 
excited  by  the  fairy's  words  that  she  was  lost 
to  the  thought  of  all  consequences.  Home, 
friends,  and  fear,  were  all  banished  from  her 
mind  by  the  one  overwhelming  desire  that  filled 
it  to  explore  all  those  wonders. 

Again  the  voice  replied  ; 

''  No,  maiden,  no  ;  you  are  not  free 
To  seek  my  realms  beneath  the  sea, 
For  you  could  never  breathe,  and  Uve, 
The  air  our  fragrant  zephyrs  give ; 
Nor  could  your  eyes  e'er  gaze  upon 
The  matchless  splendor  of  our  suu ; 
For  should  they  meet  the  dazzling  ray 
That  ever  crowns  the  fairies'  day. 
For  ever  quenched  would  be  your  sight 
To  any  orb  of  lesser  light. 
But  though  you  may  not  dwell  with  me, 
Look  up,  if  you  a  fay  would  see." 

Clementina  quickly  raised  her  head  and  be- 
held a  lovely  creature  reposing  upon  the  wings 
of  a  gorgeous  butterfly,  that  had  rested  upon 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  55 

the  flowers ;  diamonds  sparkled  upon  her  robe 
of  silver  cloud ;  a  golden  halo  surrounded  her 
slight  form  and  made  it  almost  dazzling,  as  she 
bent  upon  the  maiden  a  giance  at  once  tender 
and  searching. 

Clementina  forgot  to  speak  till  the  voice  re- 
sumed its  song : 

"  Have  your  words  failed  you,  maiden  bold  ? 
Then  do  not  speak — your  tale  is  told. 
I  well  have  learned  the  magic  art 
To  read  the  secrets  of  the  heart. 
I  see  in  yours  sad  discontent, 
And  dreams  of  life  in  splendor  spent. 
Wear  next  that  heart  this  gift  from  me, 
And  from  these  ills  you  shall  be  free ; 
For  when  tliis  mirror  meets  your  eye 
Each  foolish  wish  will  quickly  die, 
And  you  will  be  compelled  to  see 
The  blessings  that  are  granted  thee. 
Now  seek  no  more  these  scenes  to  find, 
But  go^and  cast  no  glance  behind." 

Clementina,  who  had  not  once  withdrawn 
her  eyes  from  the  brilliant  being  that  addressed 
her,  now  saw  her  bend  gracefully  forward  and 
extend   a   silver  wand  towards  her.     At  the 


66  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR. 

same  moment  there  fell  at  her  feet  a  large  oval 
diamond.  She  raised  it  and  found  it  to  be  a 
perfect  mirror,  which  she  placed  in  her  bosom 
with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

In  a  moment  she  was  enveloped  in  darkness. 

How  long  the  light  was  obscured  she  could 
not  teU ;  but  when  she  could  again  discern  ob- 
jects, she  found  herself  reclining  upon  a  couch 
in  her  own  room,  and  she  would  have  been 
tempted  to  consider  the  whole  vision  as  a  freak 
of  the  imagination,  had  not  she  felt  the  dia- 
mond resting  in  her  bosom. 

For  many  days  her  mind  was  so  engrossed 
by  the  strange  thoughts  awakened  there  that 
she  moved  contentedly  on  in  the  sphere  of  her 
duties,  and  her  mother  was  several  times  heard 
to  exclaim  that  she  had  never  known  Clemen- 
tina so  docile  and  gentle  and  so  anxious  to  make 
herself  useful.  But  as  time  rolled  on,  the  im- 
pressions produced  by  her  visit  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  she  became  interested  in  the 
things  going  on  around  her. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  57 

Her  young  companions  were  all  quite  excited 
on  the  subject  of  the  ball,  and  as  the  time  ap- 
proached, and  she  heard  their  many  discussions 
of  it,  and  speculations  concerning  it,  she  felt 
once  more  the  yearning  to  be  seen  and  admired 
and  the  strong  desire  to  participate  in  so  new 
and  exciting  a  pleasure. 

"  I  do  wish  I  could  go  to  this  ball,"  she  cried. 
"  The  Lady  Alicia  will  be  there,  I  am  told.  I 
have  never  seen  a  real  lady  in  ray  life,  and  I 
should  so  like  to  see  one." 

Scarcely  had  she  uttered  the  wish  when  she 
felt  a  slight  pressure  in  her  bosom,  and  drawing 
forth  the  magic  mirror  placed  it  before  her. 


CHAPTER    YI. 

S^Ije    '§tix tBS, 

T  once  she  saw  a  stately  palace  sur 
rounded  by  beauteous  parks  and  gar- 
y^  dens ;  every  thing  in  the  parterre  and 
wooded  lawns  bespoke  wealth,  refine- 
ment, and  elegance.  Costly  exotics 
shed  their  fragrance  on  the  air,  and  tropical 
fruits  hung  in  luxurious  grace  from  the  hot- 
house wall.  Magnificent  out-houses  contained 
gay  equipages  and  prancing  steeds  almost  with- 
out number,  while  crowds  of  servants,  dressed 
in  expensive  livery,  seemed  occupied  in  pre- 
serving order  in  the  vast  domain. 

Every  thing  in  the  interior  partook  of  the 
same  style  of  lordly  magnificence.  The  walla 
were  adorned  with  pictures  executed  'with 
such    masterly  art   that  the  scenes   of   other 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  59 

lands  were  brought  before  the  eye  with  life- 
like reality. 

Clementina  found  that,  viewed  through  her 
mirror,  the  massive  walls  were  no  barrier  to 
her  sight.  She  raised  her  eyes  and  the  in- 
mates of  the  apartment  above  were  distinctly 
visible. 

A  lady  sat  before  a  mirror  extending  from 
the  ceiling  to  the  floor.  Diamonds  sparkled 
upon  a  brow  as  regal  as  that  of  a  queen,  her 
raven  tresses  fell  upon  a  neck  that,  by  its  trans- 
parent whiteness,  might  have  almost  put  the 
snow-drift  to  the  blush,  and  the  eyes  raised  to 
contemplate  the  radiant  figure  seemed  to  have 
borrowed  from  the  heavens  their  choicest  azure 
tint. 

'  "  Surely  this  beautiful   being   must  be  very 
happy,"  sighed  Clementina  to  herself. 

"There,  that  will  do,  Dora,"  said  the  fair 
one  languidly,  to  the  maid  who  was  attiring  her 
person  with  anxious  assiduity.  "Place  that 
curl  a  little  higher,    you   have   allowed    it   to 


00  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

droop  too  much  upon  the  temple.  It  gives  a 
more  graceful  turn  to  the  profile  so,"  and  she 
touched  the  precise  spot  where  she  wished  the 
stray  ringlet  to  rest.  "  Now  bring  me  my  lace 
robe.  I  shall  wear  that  this  evening,  with 
pearls." 

"  There  is  a  bouquet  in  the  boudoir,  which 
Lord  Neville  hoped  the  Lady  Alicia  would 
honor  him  by  carrying  this  evening;  shall  I 
bring  it  to  your  ladyship  ?" 

"  No,  Dora,  flowers  are  so  common  that  one 
wearies  of  the  sight  of  them,  and  their  never- 
ending  perfume  is  positively  disagreeable  to 
me." 

Her  toilet  completed,  the  young  lady  stood 
up  and  took  a  deliberate  survey  of  her  person. 
She  was  young  and  very  beautiful,  yet  there 
was  no  flush  of  joy  and  hope  as  she  stood  thus. 
No  soft  blush  rose  to  her  cheek  as  she  felt  a 
consciousness  of  her  own  rare  loveliness,  and 
weariness  was  the  only  expression  discernible 
upon  her  countenance. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIBROR.  61 

"Lady  Augusta  desires  the  Lady  Alicia's 
presence  in  the  drawing-room ;  her  ladyship 
waits,"  announced  a  liveried  sei-vant. 

The  beauty  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  drawing 
a  cloak  of  rose-colored  silk  around  her  slight 
form,  left  the  apartment. 

"  You  are  positively  splendid  this  evening, 
mademoiselle ;  you  fairly  surpass  yourself  in  that 
simple .  robe.  I  really  must  compliment  you 
upon  your  taste  in  dress,"  exclaimed  the  Lady 
Augusta,  as  her  daughter  stood  before  her. 

"  Your  ladyship  is  pleased  to  be  sarcastic," 
was  the  cold  reply. 

"  Xo  one  can  be  accused  of  sarcasm  in  pro- 
nouncing the  Lady  Alicia  the  queen  of  belles 
and  the  most  peerless  of  beauties,"  said  the 
haughty  dame  with  a  glance  of  proud  satis- 
faction. 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  the  fact,  madam,  and 
weary  of  its  endless  repetition.      I  am  some- 
times tempted  to  wish  that  I  might  be  called 
6 


62  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROE. 

plain,  if  it  were  only  for  the  novelty  of  the 
thing ;  or  that  I  might  encounter  some  rival 
with  charms  more  powerful  than  my  own. 
There  would  be  some  excitement  in  that.  It 
might  even  awaken  a  feeling  of  envy,  and  that 
would  be  quite   diverting." 

"What  a  strange  whim,  mademoiselle.  Ev- 
ery one  washes  to  be  beautiful.  Many  are  half 
dying  with  envy  of  your  charms,  and  would 
be  made  happy  for  an  evening  by  one  glance 
from  the  adorers  that  you  spurn  in  contempt. 
But  will  you  not  see  his  lordship  before  you 
go  ?  He  is  confined  to  his  room  with  the  gout, 
and  is  sadly  bored.  He  expressed  a  wash  to  see 
you  in  full  toilet." 

"  Thank  you  ;  no," — with  a  slight  elevation 
of  the  graceful  shoulders, — "  his  lordship  must 
excuse  me.  He  is  none  of  the  most  amiable 
when  indisposed,  and  I  never  visit  him  in  his 
gouty  humors,  it  is  so  distressing  to  my  nerves." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  then.  I  would  not 
advise  you   to  go,  if  it  annoys  you.     I  have 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIfiROE.  63 


quite  a  curiosity  to  see  how  this  ball  will  turn 
out." 

"  All  balls  are  tiresome ;  but,  in  my  opinion, 
this  will  be  particularly  so.  I  do  not  like  this 
idea  of  having  any  of  the  common  people  ad- 
mitted, and  was  almost  tempted  not  to  sanction 
it  by  appearing  there." 

"  His  lordship  seemed  determined  upon  that 
point.  His  political  interest  demands  it,  you 
know.  It  will  not  be  so  bad  after  all,  for  the 
whole  of  our  cu'cle  will  be  there,  and  of  course 
thei-e  will  be  no  mingling  among  the  people." 

"  Political  interest  demands  great  sacrifices,  I 
know ;  but  I  wish  for  my  part  that  we  could  be 
entirely  independent  of  the  people.  One  feels 
degraded  by  breathing  the  very  air  in  com- 
mon with  the  vulgar  herd.  But  let  us  depart 
at  once." 

The  two  stately  ladies  swept  from  the  apart- 
ment. Not  harder  was  the  diamond  cross  that 
rested  upon  the  Lady  Ahcia's  breast,  than  was 
the  inner  jewel  beneath  it.     Not  colder  was  the 


t4  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

marble  hall  pressed  by  Lady  Augusta's  foot, 
than  was  the  heart  within  her  bosom. 

"And  is  this  the  being  I  have  worshiped  at  a 
distance,  and  so  often  envied  ?"  exclaimed  Clem- 
entina aloud.  "  Far  rather  would  I  ever  remain 
in  my  father's  cottage  than  possess  an  insensible 
nature  like  hers.  I  at  least  have  the  power  of 
enjoying  the  beauties  of  nature,  though  fortune 
has  been  denied  me ;  and  I  now  see  that  I  have 
one  blessing  for  which  I  have  never  been  grate- 
ful— a  feeling  heart." 

Hardly  had  the  words  escaped  her  lips  when 
the  scenes  vanished  from  her  mirror,  and  find- 
ing that  it  would  reveal  no  more,  she  returned 
it  again  to  its  hiding  place. 

"  There  is  the  end  of  my  first  story,"  said 
Mrs.  Grey ;  "  and  now,  my  little  ones,  you  had 
better  say  Good  night." 

"It  never  occurred  to  me,"  said  May,  who 
had  seemed  in  a  sort  of  reverie,  "  but  a  feeling 
heart  is  a  very  great  blessing." 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIEKOE.  65 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Aunt  Mary,  that  you  must 
be  very  happy ;  you  have  such  lovely  thoughts. 
Such  things  never  enter  my  mindv  Now,  who 
but  you  would  ever  think  of  there  being  any 
enjoyment  in  just  knowing  when  things  are 
pretty  ?"  said  Hatty. 

"  It  is  really  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Grey.  "  What 
pleasure  is  there  in  possessing  beautiful  things, 
if  one  has  no  power  to  appreciate  thera  ?  Peo- 
ple who  are  constantly  surrounded  by  luxuries 
become*  so  accustomed  to  them  that  they  cease 
to  give  them  pleasure ;  and  I  often  think  when 
I  enter  elegant  gardens  and  splendid  houses, 
that  perhaps  they  afford  me  more  true  happi- 
ness than  they  ever  have  to  the  owners." 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  know,"  said  Helen ;  "  I  think 
I  should  never  become  like  the  Lady  Alicia." 

"You  think  not,  my  love;  but  be  thankful 
that  you  are  not  tried.  The  light  of  perfect 
prosperity  might  render  spots  visible  upon  your 
character,  of  which  you  are  now  unconscious." 

"  There,  that  is  enough  of  moral  reflection 
6* 


66  CLEMENTINA'S    MIREOR. 

for  this  evening,"  broke  in  Mr.  Grey,  rather 
impatiently.  "  Be  off  to  bed,  the  whole  troop 
of  you.  Julia's  eyes  look  as  if  the  sand-man 
had  sprinkled  a  Uttle  dust  in  them ;  and  as  for 
Charlie,  he  is  past  rousing.  I  shall  have  to 
carry  him  up  staii's." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

N  the  second  evening,  Mrs.  Grey  was 
eagerly  reminded  by  the  children  of 
the  treat  which  she  had  promised 
them. 

A  cheerful  fire  was  blazing  upon  the 
hearth,  and  a  breathless  silence  reigned 
over  the  little  group  as  she  began  to  read : 

Clementina  mused  much  upon  the  scene  that 
had  been  revealed  to  her,  and  when  her  mother 
hesitatingly  expressed  the  hope  that  she  would 
give  up  all  thought  of  the  ball,  she  was  sur- 
prised at  her  cheerful  and  ready  acquiescence 
in  her  wishes. 

For  days  and  weeks  she  seemed  like  a 
changed  girl,  but  it  was  not  very  long  before 


68  clementixa's  miekor. 

she  again  relapsed  into  her  idle  habit  of  dream* 
ing  and  wishing.  Home  duties  began  to  pall 
upon  her  taste,  and  the  monotony  of  her  home 
life  seemed  unendurable. 

Upon  some  requirement  from  her  mother, 
she  left  the  house  in  anger.  "  I  do  wish  moth- 
er would  be  more  reasonable,"  she  exclaimed. 
**She  makes  no  allowance  for  my  youth  and 
inexperience.  She  never  seems  pleased  with 
any  thing  I  do ;  I  am  very  unhappy." 

Tried,  discouraged,  angry,  and,  worst  of  all, 
conscious  that  she  was  willfully  indulging  in 
smful  feelings,  she  threw  herself  down  in  the 
shade  of  an  oak  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

A  slight  pressure  at  this  moment  reminded 
her  of  the  fairy's  gift.  She  drew  it  forth  and 
a  new  vision  burst  upon  her  view. 

A  cottage  stood  before  her,  half  hid  by  the  ivy 
that  held  it  in  close  embrace.     A  brook  wound 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  69 

its  way  through  the  lawn  that  seemed  so  peace- 
ful in  its  verdant  beauty.  There  was  no  studied 
arrangement  of  flowers,  but  here  and  there  a 
violet  raised  its  gentle  head,  or  a  rose  bowed  in 
proud  loveliness  to  the  passer-by.  The  elm 
and  the  oak  cast  a  pleasant  shade  around,  and 
a  weeping  willow  bent  lovingly  over  the  brook 
as  if  to  kiss  its  tiny  wave. 

"  Here  I  shall  find  peace  and  happiness,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Clementipa. 

But  the  sounds  of  anguish  that  soon  met  her 
ear  told  a  different  tale. 

Gazing  through  the  transparent  walls,  which 
her  magic  mirror  enabled  her  to  do,  she  saw  in 
an  upper  room  a  child  who  had  known  but  ten 
summers  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  with  her  face 
buried  in  the  snowy  coverlid.  Her  little  frame 
shook  with  anguish,  as  her  stifled  sobs  seemed 
bursting  from  a  broken  heart. 

As  her  mood  became  somewhat  calmer,  she 
raised  her  head  and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  a  full- 
length  porti-ait  of  a  lady  that  hung  upon  the 


70  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR. 

opposite  wall.  The  countenance  revealed  to 
view  by  this  change  in  her  position,  was  better 
formed  for  smiles  than  tears ;  dimples  should 
ever  play  about  that  rosy  mouth,  and  mirth 
should  ever  sparkle  in  those  soft  blue  eyes; 
while  the  golden  locks  fell  in  such  sunny  waves 
over  her  little  round  shoulders,  that  they  seemed 
of  themselves  laughing  in  very  glee. 

"  Take,  oh,  take  me  with  you,  dear  mamma," 
she  cried,  stretching  out  ter  white  arms  with 
a  look  of  passionate  entreaty.  "  This  is  such 
a  cold,  cold  world !  The  sun  does  not  seem 
bright  any  more,  and  the  birds  sing  so  mourn- 
fully. I  want  to  live  in  heaven  with  you.  No 
one  loves  Ada  now." 

"No  one  loves  you,  darling,"  said  a  kind 
voice,  and  a  middle-aged  woman,  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  entered. 

"  Xo  one  except  you,  dear  nursey,"  said  the 
child,  throwing  herself  into  her  arms.  "I  know 
that  you  love  me,  and  I  love  you  too ;  but  not 
as   much   as    I    loved   my   own    good,   pretty 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  Yl 

mamma.  Tell  me  all  about  her,  nursey.  You 
are  sure  she  will  not  be  left  in  the  cold  church- 
yard ?  it  looks  so  dreary  there.  She  has  gone 
to  live  with  the  angels  and  she  will  be  with  God. 
I  wonder  whether  God  loves  Ada,  nursey." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  darling  you  must  never  doubt 
that,"  said  the  woman,  as  she  clasped  the 
little  orphan  to  her  heart,  while  a  tear  stole 
down  her  cheek,  "God  loves  you  and  sees 
you  all  the  time,  and  is  with  you  wherever  you 
go,  and  says  that  you  must  love  Him  and  try 
to  be  good." 

"  Then  why  did  He  take  my  mamma  away  ?" 
said  the  child,  while  her  countenance  was  over- 
shadowed by  a  sadness,  pitiable  to  see  in  one 
so  young. 

"  Perhaps  you  loved  mamma  more  than  you 
did  God?" 

"But  how  could  I  help  it?  I  have  never 
seen  God,"  persisted  the  child. 

"  I  know  it,  dear ;  but  it  was  He  who  gave 
you  your  mamma,  and  this  pretty  home,  and  all 


W  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

the  comforts  that  you  have  enjoyed,  and  per- 
haps He  saw  that  you  loved  His  gifts  better 
than  you  did  Him,  and  said,  '  Little  Ada  must 
love  Me  better  than  any  thing,  or  she  can  never 
live  with  Me  in  heaven  ;  so  I  will  tell  the  angel 
to  bring  Me  her  dear  mamma,  and  then,  per- 
haps, she  will  try  to  love  Jesus  and  come  to  Me 
when  she  dies.' " 

"  Tell  me  more  ;  tell  me  again,  nursey,"  said 
the  little  one,  as  a  happier  look  stole  «ver  her 
pale  face.  "Do  you  think  Jesus  will  care  for 
such  a  little  child  as  I  am  ?  I  like  to  hear  you 
talk,  dear,  good  nursey !" 

^  Yes,  Jesus  himself  said,  Suffer  little  chil- 
dren to  come  unto  Me,  for  of  such  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  But  I  can  not  talk  to  you  any 
more  now,  my  loving  little  bird,  for  I  must 
make  haste  to  dress  you.  Your  uncle  will  soon 
be  here,  and  you  know  he  never  likes  to  be 
kept  waiting." 

"  Is  it  very  wicked  not  to  love  Uncle  Robert, 
dear  nurse  ?"  said  Ada. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  73 

"You  must  try  to  love  him,  dear,  and  be 
a  good  daughter  to  him,  for  I  suppose  you  will 
always  live  with  hira,  now." 

"  I  do  n't  love  him  very  much,  and  I  do  n't 
want  to  live  with  him.  He  hates  children,  I 
know." 

"  Hush,  Ada,  you  are  naughty  now,"  and  the 
nurse  stopped  her  mouth  with  a  kiss,  as  she 
hastened  to  dress  her  darling  for  the  last  time. 

Ada's  mother  had  left  her  no  property,  and 
she  was  entirely  dependent  upon  her  father's 
brother,  who,  as  her  childish  instincts  had 
rightly  taught  her,  considered  children  perfect 
nuisances.  He  would  fain  have  rid  himself  of 
his  present  charge  had  it  been  possible,  but  as 
he  was  wealthy  and  had  no  family  of  his  own, 
a  regard  for  appearances  required  him  to  take 
his  orphan  niece  to  his  home. 

"  There  he  is  now,"  she  exclaimed,  as  carriage 
wheels  were  heard  approaching,  and  quickly  was 
her  little  form  arrayed  in  the  deep  mourning 
dress,  that  always  conveys  such  a  deep  sense  of 


74  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

desolation  when  worn  by  a  child.  The  trunks 
were  all  packed  and  ready  for  departure,  and 
she  stood  trembling  in  the  presence  of  her 
dreaded  uncle. 

Robert  Winthrop  was  pacing  up  and  down 
the  room  when  his  niece  entered.  He  cast 'one 
indifferent  glance  upon  the  little  figure,  quiv- 
ering with  its  burden  of  inward  anguish,  and 
said,  "  All  ready  ?  Well,  that 's  right,  I  like 
to  see  people  prompt." 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  soliloquized ;  "  this  place 
must  go  for  a  mere  song.  Those  lace  curtains 
•might  bring  something,  and  this  rose-wood 
furniture  would  do  to  put  up  at  auction ;  but 
the  place  is  nothing,  absolutely  nothing.  If 
Fred  had  only  located  it  somewhere  else,  I 
might  have  made  something  of  it ;  but  it  was 
just  like  him  to  choose  this  retired  spot.  He 
always  had  a  touch  of  foolish  sentiment  about 
him.*' 

As  he  rambled  on  in  this  manner  he  had 
entirely  forgotten  Ada's  presence,  but  he  was 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIEEOK.  75 

now  reminded  of  it  very  disagreeably  to  him- 
self. She  had  b.een  listening  with  her  blue  orbs 
stretched  to  their  fullest  extent  till  she  gathered 
the  purport  of  his  words,  when  all  fear  of  him 
was  lost  in  the  wild  excitement  occasioned  by 
the  thought  that  the  home  she  so  loved  would 
pass  into  the  hands  of  strangers. 

She  rushed  forward  with  a  cry  of  grief  and 
clasping  his  hand  in  both  of  hers  and  compel- 
ling him  to  look  at  her,  she  said,  "  Oh,  Uncle 
Robert,  you  can  not  mean  it ;  sell  the  dear  old 
place  where  mamma  and  I  have  lived  so  long 
and  been  so  happy  !  sell  it,  so  that  I  can  never 
come  back  any  more !  Oh,  no,  you  can  not 
mean  it !" 

"  Hoity-toity,  what 's  all  this  ?  Hands  off,  if 
you  please,  little  Miss.  Sell  it  ?  To  be  sure  I 
shall,  as  soon  as  I  can  ;  and  as  to  your  coming 
back,  I  advise  you  to  get  that  notion  out  of 
your  head,  for  I  doubt  if  you  ever  see  this  place 
again  in  your  life." 

"  And  shall  I  never  more  come  back,  never, 


76  CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOR. 

never  ?"  sobbed  the  child  in  a  voice  that  was 
almost  inarticulate  with  grief.  "  And  will  poor 
mamma  be  left  here  all  alone  ?  Who  will  tend 
her  plants  and  carry  the  beautiful  spring  flowers 
to  her  grave  when  I  am  gone  ?" 

"I  advise  you,  child,  to  get  this  nonsense 
out  of  you,  if  you  are  to  live  with  me,"  said 
the  rough  man.  "  Carry  flowers  to  a  grave, 
indeed !  Pray  what  good  does  that  do  to  any 
one  ?  Nobody  but  a  child  or  a  fool  would  ever 
think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Nursey  does  not  think  it  is  nonsense.  She 
says  it  is  right  for  me  to  try  to  make  it  beauti- 
ful where  my  dear  mamma  lies,  and  she  goes 
with  me  there  every  day,"  said  httle  Ada. 
**But,  Uncle  Robert,  if  you  take  me  to  live 
with  you  always,  may  not  nursey  go  too  ?  She 
has  always  taken  such  good  care  of  me,  and  she 
is  the  only  one  left  to  love  me  now !" 

"The  only  one  left,  indeed!  So  you  set 
more  store  by  I.er  than  you  do  by  your  own 
blood  relations,  and  all  because  she  encourages 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIEEOR.  tt 

you  in  this  sentimental  nonsense  !  No,  indeed. 
Catch  me  burdening  myself  with  any  more  en- 
cumbrances. It  is  quite  enough  for  me  to  be 
bothered  with  you,  and  too  much,  too.  Come 
now,  no  whimpering.  You  may  thank  your 
stars  that  you  have  such  a  rich  old  uncle  to  live 
with,  for  I  have  plenty  of  money  and  no  one  to 
leave  it  to  except  you ;  mind  that,  child." 

"  But  what  good  will  money  do  ?"  said  the 
desolate  orphan,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  face 
with  that  peculiar  look  of  innocent  inquiry  so 
engaging  upon  the  childish  countenance. 

"  Is  the  child  a  perfect  simpleton  ?"  said  the 
man  of  the  world,  starting  back  and  regarding 
his  little  niece  with  a  look  of  astonishment; 
"Why,  money  is  very  powerful.  It  will  buy 
you  horses,  carriages,  books,  dresses,  and  toys,, 
and  every  thing  nice  you  want.  Money  makes 
every  one  happy." 

"It  will  not  make  me  happy.  I  only  want 
my  mamma,  and  it  can  not  bring  back  my 
mamma,"  said  Ada,  shaking  her  pretty  little 
1* 


is  CLEMENTINA'S  MIRROR. 

head  with  a  sorrowful  and  half  disdainful  ex- 
pression at  the  idea  of  such  consolation  being 
offered  to  her  great  grief. 

"  Well,  well,  I  have  talked  enough  now,  we 
must  be  off.  Good  bye,  madam  nurse,  I  do  not 
l^novv^  what  your  name  is.     Come  Ada." 

But  the  parting  between  the  two  who  had 
loved  each  other  so  long  and  so  tenderly,  was 
not  so  easy  a  matter.  Ada  threw  herself  into 
her  nurse's  arms,  and  she,  in  return,  pressed  her 
darling  to  her  bosom,  as  if  she  would  retain  her 
there  forever. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you,  dear,  dear  nursey !" 
sobbed  the  child.  "  My  heart  will  break,  I 
,know  it  will!" 

"Do  not  talk  so,  my  own  bird,"  replied  the 
honest  woman,  almost  as  much  moved  ;  "  you 
will  be  very  happy,  I  hope,  without  me ;  and 
you  will  find  many  friends,  though  none  will 
ever  love  you  better  than  your  poor  old 
nurse.  We  may  meet  no  more  on  earth, 
dear  Miss  Ada,  but  if  we  are  only  good  and 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIBEOE.  70 

love  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  live  together  always 
in  heaven." 

"Heaven  is  very  far  away,  and  it  takes  so 
long  to  get  there ;  but  I  think  I  shall  go  soon, 
nursey,  I  am  so  weary  of  life.  I  am  so  tired, 
sometimes.     I  feel  very  tired  now." 

The  light  form  grew  heavier  within  her  arms. 
Nurse  raised  her  darling  in  alarm  and  looked 
into  her  face.  It  was  as  pale  as  death.  Tried 
as  her  youthful  frame  had  been  with  her  first 
great  grief  and  sleepless  nights,  this  last  drop 
caused  her  cup  of  sorrow  to  ovei-flow.  Ada 
had  fainted. 

"Do  not  wait  till  she  revives.  It  will  only 
give  i-ise  to  more  scenes,  my  good  woman," 
said  the  unfeeling  uncle,  catching  the  lifeless 
form  of  bis  orphan  niece  in  his  arms  and  bearing 
her  to  his  carriage  with  hasty  strides.  "I  do 
not  see  what  fate  cast  this  puny  thing  upon  my 
hands  for,"  he  muttered.  "All  children  are 
perfect  plagues;  but,  when  they  have  a  little 
fun  and  life  in  them  they  are  more  endurable. 


80  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEKOR. 

As  to  this  poor,  pale  creature,  she  looks  as  if 
she  was  likely  to  die  on  my  hands.     Bah !" 

The  door  closed  and  the  carriage  rolled  away 
bearing  the  hapless  orphan  far  from  the  scenes 
of  her  childhood.  She  was  then  alike  uncon- 
scious of  the  misery  of  this  parting,  and  the 
home  she  was  about  to  enter;  but,  in  after 
years  when  she  has  learned  the  falsehood  of 
every  promise  of  the  world ;  how  the  tendrils 
of  memory  will  cling  about  that  early  home 
with  its  delightful  and  peaceful  associations! 
As  time  rolls  on,  and  friends  fall  off,  and  hopes 
wither,  and  phantoms  of  pleasure  crumble  into 
dust ;  how  longingly  will  she  look  back  through 
the  vista  of  the  past  upon  this  little  spot,  as 
fresh  and  green,  amid  the  desolation  that  sur- 
rounds it,  as  an  oasis  in  the  desert. 

More  than  once  during  these  scenes,  Clemen- 
tina's sympathies  had  been  strongly  excited, 
but  now  her  tears  flowed  freely.  She  recalled 
the  thought  of  the  tender  parent  who  had  ever 
stood  between  her  and  sorrow.     She  remem- 


CLEMENTINA'S  MIKEOR.  81 

bered  the  ready  sympathy  that  had  ever  soothed 
her  childish  griefs,  and  exclaimed,  "  How  dif- 
ferent is  my  lot  from  that  of  this  poor  orphan 
child  !  How  thankful  I  am  that  I  am  not  in 
Ada's  place!  How  could  I  live  without  my 
dear,  dear  mother !" 

Again  the  contented  spirit  dispelled  the 
power  of  the  magic  mirror,  and  again  it  was 
restored  to  its  resting-place  near  her  heart. 

Clementina  thus  found  another  blessing  in 
her  comparatively  humble  life,  which  had  been 
regarded  by  her  so  much  as  a  matter  of  course 
that  she  had  forgotten  to  be  grateful  for  it. 

One  thing  she  determined  upon — she  would 
never  again  murmur  at  her  mother  for  striv- 
ing to  correct  her  faults — and  she  kept  her  res- 
olution. Her  obedient,  loving  manner  brought 
great  joy  to  the  heart  of  simple  Mrs.  Sharp, 
though  she  was  at  a  loss  how  to  account  for  the 
change  in  her  daughter's  mood.  "  She  is  the 
greatest  comfort  I  have,"  she  often  said,  with 
tears  of  pleasure  rolling  down  her  honest  face. 


82  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROR. 

"Is  that  all,  mamma?"  said  JuUa,  in  a  tone 
of  disappointment  as  Mrs.  Grey  laid  down  the 
manuscript.  "  I  was  so  in  hopes  you  would  tell 
us  what  became  of  Ada.  I  want  to  know  how 
she  liked  living  with  her  uncle,  and  whether  he 
was  kind  to  her." 

"  You  must  remember,  my  dear,  that  I  am 
only  taking  a  few  glances  into  Clementina's 
Mirror  for  the  benefit  of  her  character.  It 
would  take  more  than  six  evenings  to  carry  on 
all  the  personages  that  she  becomes  acquainted 
with,  to  the  end  of  their  lives,"  said  her  mother. 

"  I  know  that,  mamma,"  replied  the  httle 
gu-1,  "  but  since  you  made  up  the  whole  story, 
I  think  you  might  just  tell  us  how  it  turned 
out." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  is  it  that  you  wish  to 
know  ?" 

"  Whether  Ada  lived  happily  with  her  uncle." 

"  At  first  she  was  very  unhappy ;  she  remem- 
bered how  much  affection  her  mother  had  lav- 
ished upon  her,  and  could  not  become  reconciled 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  83 

to  the  cold  splendor  of  her  new  home  ;  but  aflei 
a  time  she  became  somewhat  accustomed  to  the 
change  in  her  circumstances,  and  settled  down 
into  contentment,  and  even  happiness." 

"  I  think  she  was  very  unfeeling  to  forget  her 
mother,"  said  May  ;  "  and  as  to  that  old  uncle, 
I  am  sure  that  I  should  have  detested  the  very 
sight  of  him,  if  I  had  been  in  her  place." 

"  iNTo,  my  love,  I  do  not  think  you  would 
have  refused  him  your  affection,  if  you  had 
known  all  the  circumstances  of  his  life,"  re- 
plied her  aunt,  smiling.  "  He  had  been  sent 
out  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  world  when  very 
young  ;  he  succeeded  very  well  in  business,  but 
just  as  he  was  anticipating  the  happiness  of 
placing  his  parents  in  more  comfortable  circum- 
stances, he  trusted  too  entirely  to  the  integrity 
of  a  friend,  and  lost  all.  This  was  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  him,  both  because  it  shattered 
his  confidence  in  his  friend,  and  deprived  him  of 
his  hard-earned  money.  Before  he  was  enabled 
to  recover  from  this  blow,  both  of  his  parents 


84  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

were  taken  away.  He  had  settled  down  into  the 
belief  that  no  one  could  ever  love  him  because 
his  manner  was  so  rough  and  he  was  so  plain  in 
his  personal  appearance.  So  he  devoted  him- 
self entirely  to  business,  and,  at  the  time  of 
his  brother's  death,  was  a  whimsical,  worldly- 
minded  old  bachelor,  unloving  and  unloved." 

"Did  he  ever  become  attached  to  his  little 
niece  ?"  asked  Hatty. 

"  Yes,  the  pretty  little  orphan  crept  insen- 
sibly into  his  heart.  As  she  recovered  her 
gayety,  his  affection  for  her  increased,  and  he 
even  put  himself  to  considerable  trouble  to  try 
to  make  her  happy.  He  could  not  give  her 
tender  sympathy  and  gentle  caresses,  but  he 
surrounded  her  with  luxurious  comforts,  and 
tried  to  gratify  every  wish  of  her  heart." 

*'  Well,  I  do  not  know  but  I  should  have 
liked  him  pretty  well,  after  all,"  said  May, 
laughing. 

"  Do  you  think  that  she  could  have  had  a 
horse,  if  she  had  asked  for  one  ?"  broke  in  Char- 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  85 

lie ;  "  a  real  live  horse,  for  her  own  self  to  ride 
on?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  Charlie,"  said  his  mother. 
"  She  not  only  had  a  beautiful  little  pony  to 
ride  on,  but  the  prettiest  little  carriage  you 
ever  saw,  with  a  span  of  coal-black  horses  to 
draw  it,  ^\  hen  she  was  tired  of  riding  on  horse- 
back." 

"Then  I  should  have  liked  him,  I  am  sure," 
replied  Charlie,  with  enthusiasm.  "I  would 
have  loved  him  dearly,  and  lived  with  him 
always,  if  he  had  wanted  me  to." 

The  company  smiled  at  Charlie's  waraith  of 
manner,  and  he  was  proceeding  to  enlarge  upon 
his  favorite  topic,  when  Mr.  Grey  interrupted 
the  conversation  by  calHng  his  young  family  to 
prayers. 

Good  nights  were  then  interchanged,  and  the 
little  group  separated,  anticipating  great  pleas- 
ure during  the  remaining  evenings  of  the  visit. 
8 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

^HE  rain  pattered  against  the  window 
panes,  and  the  wind  whistled  mourn- 
fully through  the  streets  on  the  third 
evening  of  the  holiday  week ;  but  all 
was  cheerfulness  and  warmth  at  Mr. 
Grey's  fireside. 

The  heavy  curtains  deadened  the  sound  of 
the  wintry  blast ;  the  gas  burned  brightly,  and 
the  coal  fire  sparkled  and  threw  up  little  jets  of 
flame  as  if  it  was  determined  to  be  meiTy  in 
spite  of  the  weather. 

Mr.  Grey,  wrapped  in  a  comfortable  dressing 

gown,  with  his  feet  thrust  into  a  pair  of  slippers, 

had  thrown  himself  into  a  rocking-chair,  and 

taken  the  ever  active  Charlie  on  his  knee. 

May  and  Julia  were  seated  beside  Mrs.  Grey 


P:iSC  S6. 


CLEMENTrNTA'S   MIREOK.  87 

waiting  with  the  greatest  impatience  for  her  to 
begin  her  story ;  while  Hatty  and  Helen  were 
busily  engaged  in  working  some  very  pretty 
coUars,  evidently  intended  as  presents  for  some- 
body. 

They  laid  down  their  work,  however,  and 
drew  up  to  the  fire  with  almost  as  deep  an 
appearance  of  interest  as  that  manifested  by 
the  younger  ones,  when  Mrs.  Grey  called  for 
her  manuscript. 

"  To-morrow  will  be  the  day  for  our  pic-nic, 
dear  mother,"  said  Clementina,  one  bright  sum- 
mer morning ;  "  and  I  am  so  glad  that  we  shall 
have  such  pleasant  weather.  All  the  young  peo- 
ple that  live  on  the  green  are  to  be  there.  The 
girls  are  to  be  dressed  in  white  muslin  and 
crowned  with  wreaths  of  ivy,  and  the  boys  wiU 
wear  black  suits  with  sprigs  of  geianium  in 
their  caps  and  button-holes.  We  shall  have  a 
splendid  time !" 

"Do  not  be  too  sanguine,  dear,"  said  the 


88  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROE. 

mother,  as  she  noticed  the  flush  of  joy  and 
excitement  upon  her  daughter's  countenance. 
"  You  know  vre  can  never  be  certain  of  any- 
thing in  this  life." 

"  But  I  am  certain,  dear  mother.  Every- 
thing is  arranged  for  the  occasion.  The  boys 
have  made  a  beautiful  tent,  where  we  intend  to 
set  our  refreshment  table.  The  weather  seems 
favorable,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  any  thing 
will  happen  to  mar  our  enjoyment." 

"Do  you  see  that  cloud?"  said  Mrs.  Sharp,' 
pointing  to  a  slight  haze  that  hung  over  the  set- 
ting sun.  "  To-morrow  may  be  stormy,  though 
it  has  been  so  pleasant  to-day." 

"Please  do  not  predict  disappointment,  moth- 
er," pleaded  Clementina,  with  a  gentle  caress. 
"  I  know  it  will  be  pleasant,  and  so  do  you,  I 
am  sure.  So  do  not  make  me  gloomy  by  talk- 
ing of  possible  evils." 

The  next  morning  Clementina  was  aroused 
by  the  rain-drops  pattering  against  her  window. 
She  rubbed  her  eyes  and  tried  to  persuade  her- 


CLEMUNTIKA'S  MIBBOB.  09 

self  that  she  was  still  asleep  and  dreaming,  but 
her  efforts  were  unavailing — there  they  were, 
distinct  and  clear. 

She  threw  a  loose  wrapper  around  her  and 
looked  out.  The  day  was  most  disagreeably 
and  hopelessly  stormy.  Not  a  streak  of  blue 
sky  was  visible,  and  the  east  wind  seemed  try- 
ing to  say,  "  I  am  determined  to  keep  on  blow- 
ing this  way  just  as  long  as  I  possibly  can." 

"I  am  the  most  unfortunate  girl  that  ever 
lived,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  burst  of  angry  im- 
patience. "  I  never  can  plan  any  little  pleasure 
but  it  is  sure  to  end  just  in  this  way.  Why 
should  it  rain  on  this  particular  day,  of  all  the 
days  in  the  year,  I  wonder  ?" 

Clementina  was  indulging  in  very  sinful  feel- 
ings. She  was  murmuring  against  her  Maker, 
and  this  time  the  fairy ?s  gift  beat  so  loudly 
against  her  breast,  that  she  drew  it  hastily 
forth.  Blushing,  she  placed  it  before  her. 
8* 


90  CLEMENTINA'S   MIUKOE. 


She  immediately  found  herself  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  city.  The  hurrying  crowd  drove  on 
and  on,  a  dense  mass  of  people  with  care-worn 
or  happy  faces,  each  intent  on  some  errand  of 
business  or  of  pleasure. 

Amid  this  throng  of  strangers,  Clementina 
noticed  a  slight  figure  laboring  under  a  heavy 
burden.  As  it  approached  her,  she  saw  it  was 
a  poor  seamstress  carrying  a  large  bundle  of 
work.  There  was  a  grace  and  refinement  shin- 
ing through  the  mists  of  her  appearance  and 
dress  that  bespoke  her  of  a  higher  sphere  in 
life  than  the  one  she  now  occupied. 

She  looked  very  frail;  a  hectic  flush  was 
painfully  visible  on  her  cheek  of  transparent 
whiteness.  Her  features  were  regular,  and  she 
would  have  been  handsome,  but  for  the  painftd 
emaciation  of  her  face  and  form.  She  seemed 
far  from  strong,  and  tottered  so  under  her  light 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  91 

burden  that  Clementina  felt  compelled  to  follow 
her. 

She  went  on  till  she  came  to  the  entrance 
of  a  narrow  lane,  so  dark  that  objects  were 
scarcely  discernible;  yet,  amid  the  pervading 
gloom  dim  forms  were  visible  swaying  to  and 
fro,  and  coarse  voices  were  distinctly  to  be 
heard. 

She  passed  into  this  vortex,  treading  the  nar- 
row streets  with  a  swifter  step,  only  now  and 
then  starting  aside  as  some  drunkard  was  seen 
reeling  to  his  home,  or  shuddering  as  a  fearful 
oath  from  woman's  lips  sent  the  blood  curdling 
to  her  heart. 

She  paused  a  moment  in  front  of  the  poorest 
hovel  there,  and  then,  slowly  mounting  a  dirty 
stair-ca'Se  that  seemed  tottering  to  decay,  en- 
tered a  small  room.  As  her  foot  crossed  the 
threshold  the  scene  changed,  and  the  very  at- 
mosphere seemed  purer.  Poverty  might  be  an 
inmate  of  that  lowly  tenement,  but  its  perfect 
cleanliness  and  order  announced  that  some  trace 


9gt  CLBMENTINA'a  MIRBOR. 

of  the  lady-like  nature  remained  in  her  who 
owned  it. 

This  woman  had  been  reared  in  comfort  and 
affluence,  but  she  married  one  beneath  her. 
Friends  cast  her  off,  and  they  sought  their 
home  in  this  distant  city.  She  was  disap- 
pointed in  him  for  whom  she  had  relinquished 
all;  abused,  neglected,  and  starved,  till  death 
relieved  her  of  his  dreaded  presence.  And 
here  the  drunkard's  widow  labored  unceasingly 
with  her  needle  to  earn  a  shelter  and  a  scanty 
pittance  for  herself  and  only  boy. 

*Tis  a  sad,  though  common  story. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  mother,"  said 
a  gentle  voice.  "I  am  very  hungry,  and  the 
time  has  seemed  so  long." 

The  speaker  was  a  little  boy  about  eight 
years  old.  His  thin,  pale  face,  with  its  subdued 
expression,  told  of  privation  and  sorrow.  Yet 
he  seemed  formed  to  be  some  one's  darling, 
with  his  classical  features,  soft  dark  eyes,  and 
coal-black  hair ;  had  fate  only  cast  his  lot  with 


clementika's  mieeor.  93 

ttie  wealthy  and  luxurious  of  this  world,  instead 
of  with  those  doomed  to  languish  in  scenes  of 
want  and  obscurity. 

"  I  have  bread,  Willie,  as  much  as  you  can 
eat,  and  I  have  brought  home  all  this  work; 
so  we  shall  soon  have  more,"  said  the  woman, 
opening  her  bundle  and  producing  a  loaf  of 
bread.  She  broke  off  a  large  piece  for  the  boy 
and  a  smaller  one  for  herself,  and  they  sat  down 
together  to  their  evening  meal. 

But  the  mother's  portion  remained  almost 
untasted.  Her  thoughts  seemed  too  much  oc- 
cupied with  other  things  to  allow  her  to  eat  of 
the  scanty  fare.  Tears  stood  in  her  eyes  and 
stole  silently  down  her  cheeks  as  she  marked 
the  light  that  broke  from  the  countenance  of 
her  child,  at  the  opportunity  of  satisfying  his 
hunger,  and  the  eager  avidity  with  which  he 
swallowed  the  last  morsel.  She  brushed  them 
hastily  away,  lest  the  sight  of  them  should  mar 
his  happiness. 

"  Have  you  had  enough,  Willie  ?" 


94  CLEMENTINA^S   MISBOB. 

"  Yes,  mother ;  and  this  bread  is  very  good," 
said  the  boy,  with  a  bright  smile,  that  told  he 
had  fared  sumptuously  for  him. 

"  Then  come  and  sit  by  me.  The  moon 
shines  so  brightly  that  we  shall  need  no  other 
light,  and  I  will  not  work  this  evening,  for  I 
have  much  to  say  to  you." 

Willie  stole  quietly  to  her  side  and  placed 
one  little  hand  in  hei*s.  She  acknowledged  the 
mute  caress  by  a  gentle  pressure,  and  began  to 
unburden  her  mind  of  its  weighty  load. 

"  My  darling,  I  feel  that  I  have  not  long  to 
live  in  this  world,  and  if  it  were  not  for  you,  I 
should  be  glad  to  say  so.  I  hope  I  am  pre- 
pared to  meet  my  God.  I  glory  in  the  perfect 
righteousness  and  atonement  of  my  precious 
Saviour.  He  only  knows  the  trials  I  have  been 
called  to  endure.  I  have  had  little  reason  to 
cling  to  this  earth.  Its  attractions  have  not 
been  for  me.  But  I  would  not  breathe  into 
your  young  ear  the  story  of  my  wrongs,  nor 
one  reproach  of  those  who,  if  they  have  sinned 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROB.  95 

deeply,  have  now  gone  to  give  up  their  account 
to  Him  who  will  bring  every  work  into  judg- 
ment. For  your  sake,  my  poor  lamb,  I  would 
like  to  stay  here  a  little  longer ;  but  God  has 
ordered  it  otherwise,  and  we  must  say.  His  will 
be  done.  I  feel  in  my  heart  that  my  days  will 
be  few  upon  the  earth.  What  will  become 
of  you  when  I  am  gone,  I  can  not  telL  I  am 
unable  to  leave  any  provision  for  your  future, 
and  I  leave  you  entirely  in  His  hands  who  h^*'^ 
promised  to  be  a  Father  to  the  fatherless.  My 
flesh  shrinks  from  the  thought  of  the  privations 
that  you  may  undergo;  but,  viewing  it  in  the 
light  of  eternal  things,  it  seems  nothing  in 
comparison  to  the  thought  that  you  will  be  sur- 
rounded by  temptations  and  may  fall  into  sin. 
Promise  me  Willie,  that,  whatever  trials  may 
await  you,  you  will  trust  your  mother's  God 
and  make  Him  your  portion  forever." 

Paler  grew  that  young  face  as  the  mother 
spoke  thus.  More  and  more  earnest  grew  its 
expression,  and  the  sadness  deepened  in  those 


96  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROK. 

dark  eyes;  but  these  were  the  only  visible 
traces  of  emotion.  There  was  no  tremor  of 
the  gentle  tones  as  he  answered,  "I  promise, 
mother." 

There  was  no  burst  of  sorrow,  no  outbreali 
of  violent  grief,  as  he  heard  the  death-knell  of 
his  earthly  happiness.  Willie  had  been  nursed 
by  affliction.  He  was  the  child  of  want.  Had 
any  sudden  good  fortune  overtaken  him,  the 
fountain  of  his  tears  might  have  been  unsealed. 
Born  and  reared  in  life's  deepest  shade,  he 
watched  the  last  ray  of  light  fade  from  his 
prison  walls  without  a  sigh.  His  childish  na- 
ture was  completely  crushed. 

"  Make  not  the  promise  in  your  own  strength 
my  darling.  I  have  prayed  for  you,  that  you 
may  be  kept  from  evil.  Put  your  trust  in  God 
and  lean  upon  Him,  and  I  shall  feel  that  you 
are  safe.  Then,  whatever  may  happen,  nothing 
can  prevent  us  from  spending  our  eternity  to* 
gether  in  heaven.  Now,  come  closer,  my  own 
loved  one,  and  I  will  sing  you  to  rest." 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  9f 

She  pressed  him  fondly  to  her  heart,  as  if 
there  she  could  shield  him  from  every  ill;  and 
8oft  and  clear,  above  the  city's  din,  above  the 
distant  cries  of  vice  and  wretchedness,  arose 
these  glorious  words : 

"  I  would  not  live  alway ;  no— welcome  the  tomb: 
Since  Jesus  has  lain  there,  I  dread  not  its  gloom ; 
There  sweet  be  my  rest  till  Ho  bid  me  arise 
To  hail  Him  in  triumph  descending  the  skies." 

Ere  the  hymn  concluded,  Willie's  head 
drooped  upon  his  mother's  bosom  in  a  peace- 
ful slumber,  and  she,  pale  watcher,  gazed  upon 
the  starry  heavens.  Hour  after  hour  rolled  on, 
and  still  she  sat  there  picturing  to  herself  the 
brightness  of  her  future  home.  And  the  angels 
looked  down  in  compassion  for  her  many  soi- 
rows,  and  whispered  to  her  heart  of  that  blest 
eternity  beyond  the  grave,  and  when  at  length 
she  drooped,  with  noiseless  wings,  they  de- 
scended, and  bore  her  away  from  earth  for- 
ever. 

9 


98  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

Sleep  on,  poor  boy.  Never  again  in  this 
cold  world  will  thy  head  be  pillowed  upon  a 
mother's  breast.  Sad  indeed  will  be  thy  awa- 
kening 1 


CHAPTER    IX. 

I  HE  ground  is  covered  with  snow,  and 
cold  and  bitter  is  the  wintry  blast.  It 
whistles  through  the  deserted  streets, 
while  the  almost  blinding  hail  and  sleet 
descend  with  pelting  fury.  Pity  those 
who  have  no  home  on  such  a  night  as  this  ! 

"  Please  give  me  some  money  to  buy  bread," 
said  a  tremulous  voice,  as  a  little  hand  was  ex- 
tended towards  a  stately  looking  lady  who  was 
hurrying  home,  out  of  humor  with  herself  and 
all  the  world. 

It  was  a  very  thin  hand,  and  shook  with  the 
cold,  but  the  lady  looked  not  upon  the  speaker. 
"I  never  encourage  beggars,"  was  the  harsh 
reply ;  and  she  pressed  her  warm  furs  more 
closely  to  her  breast  as  she  passed  on. 


100  CLEMENTINA'S    MIEBOE. 

The  little  beggar  leaned  hopelessly  against  a 
lamp  post  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
while  bitter  tears  forced  their  way  through  his 
trembling  fingers. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Bill  ?"  said  a  rough 
voice ;  and  a  boy  three  years  older  than  him- 
self stood  beside  him.  "  What  are  you  crying 
60  about  ?" 

"I  am  so  very  cold  and  hungry,"  sobbed 
Willie,  for  it  was  no  other  than  he ;  "  and 
I  do  not  know  where  to  find  food  and  shel- 
ter." 

"  Nonsense,  lad,  never  mind  that ;  I  will 
teach  you  a  tiick  or  two.  I  am  as  poor  as  you 
are,  and  should  suffer  as  much,  if  I  did  not  live 
by  the  aid  of  my  wits." 

"  I  am  willing  enough  to  work,  but  I  can  not 
find  any  thing  to  do,"  said  Willie. 

"  I  did  not  exactly  mean  that,"  replied  the 
lad,  with  a  roguish  leer.  *'  There  are  so  many 
in  want  of  work,  that  it  is  very  hard  to  find 
employment ;  but  there  is  another  way  of  get- 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOE.  101 

ting  along.  Do  you  see  that  baker's  cart  oppo- 
site ?  He  has  gone  into  that  house  with  bread. 
When  he  comes  out  let  him  find  two  or  three 
loaves  less  in  his  basket.  That  will  satisfy  your 
hunger.  And  as  for  shelter,  I  know  a  rum- 
seller  down  in street.     He  has  given  a  lot 

of  us  fellows  leave  to  sleep  in  his  entry.  We 
'are  rather  crowded,  but  I  guess  I  can  get  you 
in,  only  you  must  be  ready  to  do  a  little  job 
for  him  now  and  then,  without  mincing  matters 
much  as  to  whether  it  is  right  or  wrong,  as  the 
pious  ones  say." 

Willie  paused ;  the  temptation  was  strong. 
His  bare  feet  ached  with  the  cold,  and  his 
tattered  garments  were  no  protection  to  his 
shivering  form;  but  he  remembered  his  moth- 
er's words  on  the  last  evening  of  her  life,  and 
he  replied : 

"  I  can  not  take  that  bread,  for  God  has  said, 
Thou  shalt  not  steal ;  and  I  can  not  earn  a  lodg- 
ing by  doing  wrong,  for  never,  willfully,  will  I 
sin  against  my  God." 

9* 


102  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROR. 

"Then  you  are  a  fool  for  your  pains,  Bill. 
What  good  does  all  your  piety  do  you?  A 
fellow  must  live,"  and  the  careless  boy  went 
whistling  on  his  way. 

"  Please  to  give  me  some  cold  victuals,"  said 
the  little  wanderer,  as  the  door  of  a  stately 
mansion  opened  in  answer  to  his  knock.  • 

"  I  have  got  nothing  for  you,"  was  the  gruff 
reply  from  a  smart-looking  maid-servant.  "I 
wish  there  would  ever  be  an  end  of  these 
beggars.  I  am  tired  of  waitihg  on  them ; 
that 's  a  fact,"  and  she  tossed  her  head  con- 
temptuously. 

Willie  wished  so  too,  with  all  his  heart. 

"  You  look  very  pale,  little  boy ;  are  you 
sick?"  said  a  child,  peeping  out  from  behind 
her  nurse,  for  that  was  the  office  of  the  scornful 
damsel. 

"  I  am  very  hungry,"  said  Willie ;  "  I  have 
not  tasted  food  to-day." 

"Oh,   poor  little  fellow!"    said   the   child. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  103 

"  Do  wait  a  minute,  I  can  make  cook  give  me 
something  for  you,  I  know/' 

How  light  and  graceful  was  her  fairy  form, 
^s  it  bounded  away  on  its  errand  of  mercy ! 
How  the  young  cheek  ciimsoned  with  pleasure 
as  she  placed  a  whole  loaf  of  bread  and  some 
cold  meat  in  the  hand  of  the  boy  who  was 
starving!  How  beautiful  did  her  blue  eyes 
seem  to  the  lonely  child  as  they  beamed  upon 
him  through  tears  of  sympathy  ! 

"She  is  like  an  angel,  I  am  sure,"  he  mur- 
mured to  himself,  as  the  door  closed  upon  him, 
shutting  him  out  into  the  cold  night.  "  I  have 
never  seen  any  one  half  so  lovely." 

No  lovelier  than  you  are,  Willie,  in  your 
unflinching  rectitude  and  resigned  submission 
to  God's  will.  She  is  not  so  deserving,  and  yet 
she  is  cradled  in  luxury,  and  you  are  alone  in 
the  world, 

"  Where  shall  I  lay  my  head,  to-night  ?"  sstid 
Willie.    He  wandered  on  till  an  old  shed  at- 


104  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

tracted  his  attention.  It  was  old,  and  empty; 
but  he  was  thankful  for  even  this  shelter  from 
the  driving  wind. 

He  shrank  into  a  corner  and  drew  his 
rags  about  his  shivering  form.  He  felt  very 
strangely,  but  he  knelt  and  breathed  his  eve- 
ning prayer,  and  a  sweet  peace  stole  into  his 
soul.  With  a  sense  of  protecting  love,  he 
composed  himself  to  sleep.  Now,  how  much 
warmer  he  has  become  !  What  a  bright  light 
is  shed  around  him,  and  what  heavenly  music 
floats  upon  the  air!  The  storm  must  be  over 
now.  Lovely  forms  gather  around  him,  and 
he  feels  strangely  happy.  Suddenly  he  raises 
himself  and  looks  upward.  "  Mother,  can  that 
be  you  ?  How  beautiful  you  look,  and  you 
hold  out  your  arms  to  me!  I  am  coming, 
mother;  wait,  I  am  coming,  dear,  dear  moth- 
er!" 

Willie's  unconscious  head  fell  back  upon  the 
snow ;  his  little  white  limbs  stiffened  in  the 
winter's  cold ;  but  do  not  shed  a  tear  for  him. 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  105 

The  real  Willie  was  not  there.  He  had  found 
his  home  at  last.  Once  more  he  reposed  upon 
his  mother's  bosom.     Willie  was  in  heaven. 

"  And  I  have  dared  to  murmur  because  the 
rain  prevented  me  from  one  day's  sport,"  said 
Clementina,  with  much  emotion.  "  How  thank- 
ful I  am  for  this  pleasant  home.  I  am  sure  I 
have  not  deserved  it."  Again  her  silent  mon- 
itor was  placed  within  her  bosom. 

This  scene  produced  a  deeper  impressiou 
upon  Clementina  than  any  previous  one  had 
done  ;  and  a  longer  interval  elapsed  before  she 
was  betrayed  into  any  idle  wishes  or  murmurs 
of  discontent. 

Sobs  had  more  than  once  interrupted  Mrs. 
Grey  as  she  read  her  story  of  The  Homeless 
Boy,  and  silence  reigned  for  some  moments 
after  she  had  concluded. 

"  Poor  little  fellow,  how  patiently  he  endured 
all  the  hardships  of  his  lot !"  said  Hatty,  with 
a  suspicious  brightness  in  her  eyes. 


106  CLEMENTINA'S  MIBEOE. 

"  I  would  have  let  him  sleep  in  my  house," 
said  little  Charlie,  wide  awake  this  time,  and 
glowing  with  indignation.  "  I  only  wish  I  had 
been  there." 

"  I  hope  you  will  always  feel  as  charitably 
disposed,  my  httle  son,  towards  the  poor  and 
the  destitute.  But  you  must  not  talk  any  more 
to-night,  for  it  is  past  your  usual  bed-time." 

"  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  thankful  for  my 
home,"  said  Julia,  as  she  went  up  stairs. 

"  Nor  I,"  echoed  May.  "  I  am  glad  Aunt 
Mary  told  us  that  beautiful  story.  I  am  sure  I 
never  shall  f  jrget  it." 


CHAPTER   X. 

I N  the  fourth  evening  of  the  girls'  visit, 
they  gladly  hastened  to  the  sitting- 
room  as  soon  as  their  uncle  returned 
home.  The  storm  of  the  preceding  day 
had  continued  during  the  morning,  and 
the  afternoon  proved  so  damp  and  dis- 
agreeable, that  Mrs.  Grey  thought  they  had  bet- 
ter remain  at  home  instead  of  walking  as  usual. 
The  consequence  was,  that  they  were  com- 
pletely tired  of  each  other's  society,  and  were 
looking  forward  with  eagerness  to  their  eve- 
ning's entertainment. 

"  I  am  getting  quite  interested  in  these  sto- 
ries myself,"  said  Mr.  Grey,  laughingly.  "I 
really  had  not  given  you  credit  for  so  much 
imagination."  ^ 


108  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROE. 

"  You  need  not  laugh  at  me,  Charles,"  re» 
plied  his  wife,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  ;  "  you 
are  at  liberty  to  do  better  if  you  choose,  but 
till  you  do,  some  one  must  amuse  these  little 
people." 

"  He  could  not  write  any  thing  prettier,  I  am 
8ure,"  said  May. 

"  Please  do  not  talk  any  more,"  broke  in 
Helen  ;  "  I  am  so  impatient  for  mamma  to 
begin.  She  hai-dly  had  tiipe  to  finish  last 
evening." 

"  Well,  I  will  waste  no  more  time  then,"  said 
Mrs.  Grey,  as  she  opened  her  manuscript. 

CUmenlina's    glirro r— (D o n t i n u £ b , 

"  Can  you  go  to  walk  with  us  this  after- 
noon ?"  said  Sarah  Adams,  running  into  the 
room  where  Clementina  was  seated  with  her 
mother.  "  We  have  made  up  a  little  party  of 
the  school-girls,  and  are  going  into  the  woods, 
Mr.  Miller  told  us  that  perhaps  he  could  accom- 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  109 

pany  us,  and  if  he  does,  he  will  take  us  out 
to  sail  upon  the  lake." 

"  May  I  go,  dear  mother  ?"  said  Clementina, 
with  a  look  of  earnest  entreaty,  that  told  very 
plainly  what  answer  her  heart  gave  to  the  invi- 
tation. 

"  I  know  of  nothing  at  present  to  prevent 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Sharf>.  "  You  have  been  so  much 
interrupted  in  your  studies  of  late,  that  if  this 
walk  were  to  come  off  earlier  in  the  day,  I 
should  say  no ;  but  since  it  will  be  put  off  till 
after  school-hours,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  say 
yes." 

*'  Then  we  shall  certainly  expect  you  at  pre- 
cisely four,  remember.  Good-bye ;  I  shall  be 
late,"  and  Sarah  bounded  away. 

"What  a  delightful  time  we  shall  have!" 
said  Clementina,  the  moment  she  had  left  them. 
*'  I  have  never  been  on  the  lake,  you  know." 

"  Do  not  talk  about  it  now,"  said  her  motlier. 
"Remember  that  the  condition  on  which  I 
allow  you  to  go  is,  that  you  shall  learn  these 
10 


110  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

lessons  this  morning ;  and  you  will  not  Lave 
time  to  do  them  justice,  unless  you  improve 
every  moment." 

Clementina  was  silent  a  short  time  after  this, 
but  veiy  soon  looked  up  again  from  her  book, 
with  some  question  that  showed  her  mind  to 
be  wandering  to  the  anticipated  pleasure ;  and 
this  recurred  so  often  that  her  mother  at  length 
arose  in  displeasure. 

"  I  am  vexed,  my  daughter,  that  you  pay 
so  little  attention  to  my  wishes,"  said  she.  "  I 
shall  leave  you  to  yourself,  that  my  presence 
may  be  no  temptation  to  you  to  indulge  in  fool- 
ish conversation,  and  I  advise  you  to  guard 
against  idle  thoughts ;  for  unless  these  lessons 
are  prepared  by  half  past  two,  I  shall  certainly 
decide  that  you  remain  at  home." 

Mrs.  Sharp  looked  uncommonly  determined 
and  dignified  as  she  left  tlie  room,  for  it  was 
seldom  that  she  rebuked  her  only  daughter  in 
so  stern  a  manner. 

"  I  hate  the  old  lessons,"  said  Clementina, 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROK.  Ill 

pouting.  "  I  do  not  see  the  use  of  so  much 
study.  I  am  sure  I  do  not  care  to  cultivate 
my  mind.  I  should  like  to  play  all  my  life  I 
do  not  mean  to  try  to  fix  my  attention  on  these 
tiresome  books,  when  I  have  something  so  much 
more  interesting  to  think  about." 

A  bad  mood  was  coming  on,  and  she  was 
beginning  to  be  dissatisfied  with  'herself  and 
all  the  world,  when  she  remembered  the  fairy's 
gift.  "  Perhaps  it  will  help  me  to  get  my  task," 
said  she,  drawing  it  forth. 

Immediately,  she  was  conveyed  to  a  large 
town,  and  stood  in  front  of  a  plain,  unpretend- 
ing dwelling,  though  every  thing  about  it  was 
arranged  with  perfect  neatness,  and  there  was 
an  air  of  comfort  pervading  the  place.  All  the 
window-curtains  were  drawn  except  one ;  and 
half  shaded  by  that,  sat  a  young  man  playing 
with  some  little  toys.      lie  might  have  been 


112  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROB. 

handsome,  had  it  not  been  for  the  vacant  stare 
of  his  light  blue  eyes,  and  the  foolish,  childish 
smile  that  constantly  played  over  his  manly 
features. 

"I  can  not  read  this  story,"  said  Clementina, 
with  a  bewildered  air. 

"  Listen,  then,  and  I  will  tell  it,"  said  a  silvery 
voice  that  seemed  to  proceed  fi-om  the  mirror. 

"A  long  time  ago,  a  young  man  named 
Harry  Strong  married  a  beautiful  girl  to  whom 
he  was  devotedly  attached.  He  brought  his 
bride  to  this  house  as  their  new  home.  The 
same  air  of  comfort  breathed  through  its  aspect 
then,  mingled  with  a  warmer  glow  of  cheerful- 
ness; and  young  Mrs.  Strong,  as  she  looked 
with  pride  and  satisfaction  upon  her  new  pos- 
session and  realized  that  she  was  its  mistress, 
thought  within  herself  that  she  was  the  happiest 
being  in  the  universe. 

"  Time  rolled  on,  and  the  first  fond  afiection 
of  the  youthful  couple  for  each  other  seemed  to 
increase  rather  than  diminish ;  every  hour  was 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  113 

wmged  away  with  gladness,  and  still  that  home 
was  the  center  of  attraction  to  both. 

"And  soon  a  cradle  was  rocked  beside  the 
hearth-stone,  and  a  tiny  form  reposed  therein, 
and  large  blue  eyes  looked  out  with  innocent 
wonder  upon  a  new  world ;  and  both  parents 
bent  lovingly  OA^er  their  little  treasure  mar- 
veling at  its  perfection,  and  laughing  in  ec- 
stacy  over  every  development  of  the  infant 
intellect. 

"A  few  more  years,  and  the  cradle  dis- 
appeared, and  the  little  Harry  was  at  once 
the  pet  and  the  torment  of  the  household. 
His  little  hands  accomplished  a  vast  amount 
of  mischief,  and  his  merry  voice  conveyed  a 
vast  amount  of  happiness. 

"  But  all  too  soon,  the  little  rogue  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  rough,  rude  boy  ;  and  many  a 
tear  did  the  anxious  mother  shed  over  his  mis- 
demeanors, and  many  a  pang  was  inflicted  up- 
on the  father's  heait,  of  bitter  disappointment. 
Still  there  were  streaks  of  goodness  about  the 
10* 


114  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROK. 

lad  that  led  them  to  hope  that  the  man  would 
more  than  repay  them  for  all  their  trials. 

"  Mr.  Strong  was  a  passionate  man.  He  had 
never  learned  to  control  his  temper  in  early- 
youth,  and  it  now  gave  way  under  a  sense  of 
his  son's  wrong  doing. 

"  Harry,  as  is  often  the  case  with  rogues,  got 
the  credit  of  a  great  many  sins  of  which  he  was 
never  guilty  :  and,  as  his  father  was  in  the  habit 
of  punishing  him  severely,  without  demanding 
any  explanation  of  his  conduct,  he  became  more 
and  more  hardened  in  his  reckless  course. 

"  '  I  have  had  a  bad  report  of  you,  sir,'  said 
Harry's  father  to  him  one  morning,  as  he  was 
preparing  for  school.  *  Your  teacher  informs 
me  that  you  were  absent  every  day  last  week. 
I  have  ordered  him  to  let  me  know  if  this 
occurs  again,  so  you  will  not  escape  punish- 
ment. This  time  I  will  overlook  your  offense 
if  you  will  try  to  do  better  in  future.  You 
grieve  me  very  much  by  such  conduct,  my 
son.' 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  Ii5 

"  Harry  blushed  as  he  left  the  room.  He  did 
not  care  much  for  the  threatened  punishment, 
but  he  felt  the  meanness  of  deceiving  his  pa- 
rents, and  the  look  and  tone  by  which  the  last 
words  were  accompanied  smote  liira  to  the 
heart.  '  I  will  go  straight  to  school  this  morn- 
ing,' said  he  to  himself  in  a  resolute  tone,  as  he 
turned  from  the  door. 

"  He  was  passing  a  corner  near  to  the  river 
when  a  little  girl  came  running  up  to  him  and 
cried,  as  she  caught  his  hand,  '  Please,  please, 
come  quickly,  my  brother  has  fallen  into  the 
water  ;  save  him  !  oh,  save  him  !' 

"The  child  was  almost  breatliless  with  the 
speed  with  which  she  had  come,  and  a  certain 
expression  of  terror,  mingled  with  earnestness, 
proved  that  she  was  speaking  the  truth. 

"Harry,  of  course,  could  not  resist  this 
appeal.  He  hastened  to  the  spot  where  the 
accident  had  occurred,  and  saw  the  boy  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  shore,  with  difficulty 
keeping  his  head  above  the  surface  of  the  water 


116  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKROR. 

by  the  aid  of  a  plank  that  floated  near  to  him. 
His  strength  was  almost  exhausted  and  he  was 
about  giving  up  in  despair,  when  a  cheerful  shout 
from  Harry  put  new  life  into  his  frozen  hands, 
and  enabled  him  to  hold  on  a  little  while  longer. 

"  Without  a  moment's  delay  Harry  plunged 
into  the  water,  and,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life, 
for  he  was  no  swimmer,  succeeded  in  saving  the 
boy;  but  on  lifting  him  from  the  water,  he 
found  that  he  had  become  insensible. 

"  He  bore  his  little  charge  to  the  nearest 
house,  and  after  they  had  succeeded  in  re- 
storing him  to  consciousness,  he  made  some 
inquiries  into  his  history. 

"  He  found  that  they  were  the  only  children 
of  a  widow.  They  had  left  home  that  morning 
without  permission  and  had  not  been  able  to 
find  their  way  back  again.  They  had  wandered 
down  to  the  water  and  amused  themselves 
there,  till  Johnnie  lost  his  balance  and  fell  in, 
when  his  little  sister,  half  wild  with  fright,  ran 
ecreaming  to  the  first  passer-by  for  assistance, 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOE.  117 

"  Harry  thought  he  knew  pretty  well  where 
they  lived  from  their  description  of  the  locality, 
and  he  had  become  so  much  interested  in  them, 
that  he  would  not  leave  them  till  he  had  re- 
stored them  to  their  mother  in  safety.  The 
way  was  distant,  but  he  did  not  care  for  that ; 
he  would  have  gone  twice  as  far  on  such  an 
errand,  for  he  w^as  a  generous,  warm-hearted 
boy. 

"The  poor  widow  showered  blessings  upon 
him  for  preserving  the  life  that  was  so  dear 
to  her,  and  wept  for  joy  as  she  clasjjed  her 
httle  darlings  to  her  heart. 

"Harry  at  length  tore  himself  away  from 
them  and  turned  towards  home.  Then,  and 
not  till  then,  did  the  conversation  of  the  morn- 
ing recur  to  him. 

"  *■  I  suppose  Old  Hunks  has  sent  father  word 
that  I  was  absent  from  school  again,  but  they 
can  not  blame  me  this  time.' 

"  Pleased  with  the  idea  that,  for  once,  he 
could  give  a  good  account  of  himself,  he  en- 


118  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEEOE. 

tered  the  house  fearlessly,  and  sought  his  father 
in  the  library. 

"  Mr.  Strong  was  seated  there  with  a  large 
book  before  him,  reading,  or  protending  to 
read,  but,  in  reality,  burning  with  indignation 
against  Harry,  for  he  had  just  been  informed 
of  his  absence  from  school. 

"  He  was  trying  to  think  of  some  punishment 
that  would  make  some  permanent  impression 
upon  his  erring  son,  when  he  stood  before  him. 

"'This  is  pretty  well,  sir,'  he  began,  in  a 
tone  of  sharp  displeasure.  '  Did  you  mean  to 
brave  my  resentment,  that  you  could  not  obey 
me  for  one  day  ?' 

"  Harry,  having  the  happy  consciousness  of 
mnocence,  and  Anticipating  the  turning  of  the 
tables  in  his  favor,  the  moment  his  explanation 
should  be  heard,  looked  up  with  a  smile  and 
was  just  about  to  reply,  when  the  words  died 
upon  his  lips. 

"  Mr.  Strong  had  been  dreadfully  irritated ; 
he  had  already  settled  the  question  of  his  sou's 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIEROK.  119 

guilt  in  his  own  mind,  and  believed  that  he  had 
nothing  to  offer  in  his  own  defense ;  and  now 
his  conduct  seemed  to  him  so  coolly  insolent, 
that  he  could  restrain  his  anger  no  longer. 
Without  waiting  for  the  paltry  excuse  that  he 
expected,  he  raised  the  book  he  had  been  read- 
ing, threw  it  violently  across  the  room,  and 
Harry  sank  lifeless  upon  the  floor. 

"  No  sooner  was  the  insane  act  committed 
than  all  his  anger  left  him.  He  raised  his  boy 
tenderly  in  his  arms,  and  bore  him  to  the  air ; 
he  smoothed  the  glossy  locks  from  his  brow 
and  bathed  his  pale  face  with  his  tears,  as  he 
tried  to  call  him  back  to  life. 

*'  But  repentance  came  too  late.  Animation 
was  restored  at  length,  but  the  light  of  reason 
had  forever  fled  from  those  large  blue  eyes. 
The  book  was  aimed  by  a  strong  arm  and  it 
struck  in  a  dangerous  place. 

"  Years  have  passed  since  that  sorrowful  day. 
The  broken-hearted  father  could  not  look  upon 
the  wreck  his  hand  had  made,  and  soon  went 


120  CLEMENTINA'S   3IIKK0E. 

down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  His  widow,  thus 
doubly  bereaved,  followed  him  within  a  month ; 
and  the  poor  idiot  boy  was  the  only  one  left  in 
that  once  happy  home. 

"  A  compassionate  uncle  took  charge  of 
the  unfortunate  orphan.  He  procured  a  com- 
petent person  to  wait  upon  him,  and  still 
allowed  him  to  live  in  the  old  house,  for  which 
he  seemed  to  have  contracted  a  sort  of  attach- 
ment. It  is  his  perfect  delight  to  sit  in  the 
window  of  his  little  room,  alternately  gazing  at 
the  passers-by  with  a  ^■acant  smile,  and  playing 
W'ith  some  children's  toys  that  have  been  pro- 
cured for  his  amusement." 

*'  Oh,  what  a  stupid  monotonous  existence !" 
said  Clementina,  "  and  the  poor  fellow  was  not 
to  blame  either.  How  thankful  every  one 
ought  to  be  that  has  the  blessing  of  reason.  I 
am  glad  I  have  a  good  mind,  and  after  all  I  do 
not  think  it  is  much  of  a  hardship  to  be  com- 
pelled to  cultivate  it."  So  saying,  she  applied 
herself  to  the  dreaded  task  and  succeeded  in 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROK.  121 

conquering  it  in  time.  She  pleased  her  mother 
by  a  perfect  recitation,  went  to  walk,  and  en- 
joyed herself  very  much,  but  I  must  reserve  the 
account  of  this  pleasant  excursion  for  another 
chapter. 

"That  is  always  the  way,"  said  Helen,  im- 
patiently; "just  as  you  get  to  the  most  inter- 
esting part,  it  is  time  to  leave  off." 

"  Never  mind,  Nellie,"  said  May ;  "  you 
know  it  is  very  delightful  to  have  pleasures 
in  anticipation." 

"  I  think  Harry's  father  was  a  very  bad 
man,"  said  little  Charlie. 

"  Who  kicked  the  kitty  the  other  day,  when 
she  rolled  his  new  ball  into  the  mud  ?" 

Charlie  hung  down  his  head  ;  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  her,"  he  said,  "but  I  did  not 
think." 

"  Neither  did  Mr.  Strong  think,  when  he  threw 
that  heavy  book,"  said  Mr.  Grey.  "  Learn  to 
get  the  better  of  that  temper  while  you  are 
11 


122  CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOE. 

young,  ray  dear  little  boy,  or  it  may  lead  you 
to  do  worse  things  than  to  abuse  poor  pussy." 

Charlie  looked  very  grave,  for  him ;  and, 
turning  to  the  girls,  his  father  continued  :  "  It 
is  well  never  to  be  too  hasty  in  condemning  the 
faults  of  others ;  but  when  we  observe  them, 
let  it  teach  us  to  guard  against  similar  errors. 
Our  lesson  to-night  will  be  the  evils  arising 
from  the  indulgence  of  an  impatient  temper. 
Let  us  examine  well  our  own  hearts  to  see  if 
we  are  guilty  of  this  sin,  and  let  us  determine, 
God  helping  us,  never  to  rest  till  we  root  it  out, 
if  we  discover  it  there." 

"I  am  thankful,  dear  papa,  that  you  have 
spoken  on  this  subject,"  said  Helen,  "  and  I 
will  try  to  do  as  you  have  advised." 

"  So  will  I,"  "  and  so  will  I,"  echoed  May  and 
Hatty,  kissing  their  aunt  and  uncle  Good  night. 

"  JNIay  you  be  enabled  to  keep  the  resolution, 
my  dear  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  and  a  silent 
prayer  ascended  from  her  heart,  as  the  door 
closed  after  them. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

H  dear!"  sighed  Julia,  on  the  fifth 
evening  of  her  cousin's  visit,  "  how 
lonely  Helen  and  I  shall  be  when  the 
girls  are  gone  !  I  can  not  bear  to  think 
we  must  so  soon  part  with  them." 
"I  think  we  shall  feel  even  worse 
than  you  will,"  said  May,  "for  it  is  so  quiet 
in  our  home,  that  we  shall  have  more  time  to 
think  of  you  all.  And  then  papa  never  tells 
us  any  stories  to  pass  away  the  long  winter 
evenings." 

"  Well,  my  dears,  I  do  n't  think  I  shall  take 
up  story-telling  as  a  business,"  interrupted  their 
aunt,  smiling.  "You  may  console  yourselves 
with  the  reflection  that  I  shall  not  amuse  the 
girls  any  more  in  this  manner,  unless  on  some 


124  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKROE. 

great  occasiou,  perhaps  not  till  you  come  again. 
But  bring  me  my  manuscript,  Helen,  and  I  will 
commence,  unless  you  would  prefer  to  talk 
among  yourselves." 

"  Oh  no,  the  story,  the  story !"  broke  in  four 
eager  voices,  and  the  story  was  begun  accord- 
ingly. 

"  Come  Clem.,  they  are  all  waiting  for  you," 
said  Harry  Edwards,  bursting  into  Mrs.  Sharp's 
parlor,  at  precisely  the  time  specified  for  the 
walking  party  to  assemble.  *'  They  are  all 
under  the  old  oak  tree  that  stands  near  the 
meadow,  and  I  just  thought  I  would  run  up 
and  call  for  you,  fearing  you  might  be  late.  I 
know,  too,  that  it  is  always  pleasanter  to  have  a 
companion  than  to  walk  alone." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Harry.  Some 
persons  greatly  prefer  a  solitary  ramble,'* 

"  Nonsense,  Clem.  There  may  be  such  peo- 
ple in  the  world,  but  you  are  not  one  of  them, 
and  I  know  very  well  that  I  am  not.     So  get 


CLKMENTINA'S   MIREOE.  125 

ready  as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  we  shall  be  the 
last,  as  it  is." 

''  Do  wait  one  minute.  Master  Impatience," 
said  Clementina,  giving  a.  parting,  and,  it  must 
be  confessed,  rather  an  affectionate  glance  at 
the  mirror  as  she  carelessly  twisted  one  or  two 
rose  buds  and  lilies  of  the  valley  amid  her  dark 
curls,  and  placed  a  large  straw  flat  upon  her 
head. 

"  I  am  sure  not  one  of  the  girls  will  look  as 
well  as  I  do,"  was  her  mental  reflection,  "  and 
Harry  Edwards  will  perhaps  invite  me  to  ride 
with  him  in  his  new  pony  carriage.  He  would 
not  have  come  for  me  unless  he  had  intended 
to  do  so.  If  he  does  ask  me  I  will  certainly 
go,  for  he  is  such  a  droll  fellow  and  knows  so 
many  jokes  that  I  always  like  his  company. 
Besides,  it  is  so  far  to  Silver  Lake,  and  the 
sun  is  so  hot,  that  it  will  be  much  pleasanter 
riding  than  walking." 

"  Come,  I  am  ready,  now,"  she  added 
aloud  to  Harry,  "  and  I  am  afraid  if  we 
11* 


li$i  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE. 

do  not  hasten  our  steps,  they  will  go  with- 
out us." 

"  How  glad  we  are  that  you  are  come !" 
cried  several  youthful  voices,  as  they  made  their 
appearance  at  the  place  of  meeting. 

"Father  said  I  might  drive  my  pony  car- 
riage, if  I  liked,"  said  Hany,  *'  and  it  will  hold 
three  easily.  So  if  any  two  of  you  would  pre- 
fer riding,  it  is  at  your  service ;  only  you  must 
settle  it  among  yourselves,  who  it  shall  be." 

"  I  give  my  vote,  then,  for  Florence  and 
Ida,"  said  sweet  Lily  Vale,  who  always  thought 
of  every  one  before  herself  "I  am  sure  they 
will  be  tired  if  they  walk  so  far,  and  the  rest  of 
us  do  not  mind  it." 

"  Yes,  oh  yes ;  let  it  be  Florence  and  Ida,  by 
all  means,"  responded  many  hearty  voices. 

Clementina  said  nothing,  but  her  counte- 
nance fell.  "  How  very  provoking,  when  I  was 
so  certain  he  would  ask  me,"  she  thought. 

"  Well,  young  ladies,  what  do  you  say  to  the 
proposition  ?"  said  Harry,  with  a  polite  bow, 


CLEMENTINA'S   AtlRROR.  127 

turning  towards  a  slight,  pale  girl  of  fourteen, 
and  one  about  a  year  younger  who  stood  by 
her  side. 

We  need  not  say  that  the  invitation  was 
gladly  accepted  by  the  two  favored  girls,  upon 
whom  the  choice  had  fallen. 

The  rest  of  the  party  walked  on  together ; 
chatting  pleasantly,  singing,  and  gathering  ber- 
ries and  wild  flowers  by  the  way.  All  were 
merry  except  Clementina,  whose  heart  was 
filled  with  disappointment  and  envy. 

"  Come,  Clem,  let  us  rest  awhile  under  this 
beautiful  elm  that  seems  to  invite  us  to  its 
pleasant  shade,"  said  Lily,  to  her  silent  com- 
panion. "  I  am  so  tired  with  running  about  in 
the  sun ;"  and  the  two  girls  threw  themselves 
down  on  the  grass  as  she  spoke. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  did  Clementina's 
bitter  feeling  find  vent  in  words.  "I  never 
was  so  tired  in  my  life,"  said  she.  *'I  must 
say,  I  think  it  is  very  delightful  that  we  should 
broil  ourselves  in  this  hot  sun,  while  Florence 


128  CLEMENTINA'S   MIBROK. 

and  Ida  are  enjoying  themselves  in  Harry's 
cool  carriage.  I  do  not  see  why  you  mentioned 
them  Lily,"  she  continued,  turning  sharply 
upon  her ;  "  they  are  the  poorest  and  plainest 
girls  in  the  company." 

"  Why,  Clem.,  do  you  not  really  know  the 
reason  ?"  asked  Lily,  returning  her  glance  with 
one  of  innocent  surprise.  "  Florence  sprained  her 
ankle  so  badly  last  fall  that  it  troubles  her  even 
now  when  she  walks  far,  and  Ida  was  always  del 
icate,  poor  girl.  Mamma  says  she  does  not  be 
lieve  she  will  ever  live  to  grow  up,"  and  the  kind 
hearted  child  brushed  away  a  tear  at  the  thought, 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Clementina,  angrily ; 
"  if  people  are  lame,  they  should  stay  at  home 
and  not  be  putting  every  one  else  to  incon- 
venience to  accommodate  them ;  and  as  to 
being  delicate,  it  is  a  fine  thing,  I  must  say,  if 
one  is  to  be  so  petted." 

"  Why,  Clem.,"  said  Lily,  "  poor  Florence 
seldom  goes  any  where,  and  is  so  afraid  of 
giving  trouble  that  we  had  hard  work  to  per* 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRKOK.  129 

suade  her  to  come  with  us  to-day.  And  how 
can  you  wish  to  be  delicate?  I  am  sure  I 
would  rather  have  my  own  two  feet  to  walk 
with,  than  to  ride  the  prettiest  horse  that  ever 
was  seen.  It  is  an  awful  thing  to  be  deprived 
of  health.  But  I  must  gather  a  bunch  of  the 
beautiful  violets  that  I  see  peeping  over  the 
top  of  yonder  rock,"  and  the  light-hearted  girl 
bounded  away,  leaving  her  melancholy  compan- 
ion to  her  own  reflections. 

Clementina  was  just  yielding  herself  up  to 
one  of  her  worst  moods,  and  forming  the  de- 
termination to  make  herself  as  disagreeable  as 
possible  during  the  remainder  of  the  walk, 
when  a  bound  within  her  bosom  reminded  her 
of  her  silent  monitor  and  its  previous  recitals. 
Eager  to  see  if  it  contained  any  comforting  mes- 
sage, she  drew  it  forth. 

^fee   Infralib. 

Two  young  girls  were  brought  before  her^ 
deeply  engaged  in  conversation.     One  of  them 


iti6  CLEMEITTIXA'S   MIEROR, 

was  weaving  a  wreath  of  bright  summer  flow- 
ers, while  the  other  reclined  listlessly  upon  a 
couch,  watching  the  fragrant  garland  as  it  grew 
beneath  her  companion's  busy  fingers.  Listen- 
ing, she  heard  the  following  dialogue  : 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  so  lovely,  Eva.  I  am  sure 
no  one  ever  felt  happier  than  I  do  at  this  mo- 
ment !  Every  girl  in  the  school  has  liberty  to 
invite  one  or  two  fiiends,  and  the  teacher  has 
built  a  bower  of  evergreens,  with  a  throne  in  it 
for  the  queen.  To  think  that  they  have  chosen 
me  from  all  the  others,  and  I  am  to  make  a 
speech  too,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  I  am  almost 
sorry,  after  all,  that  it  is  not  to  be  Minna  Carle- 
ton  instead  of  me,  she  is  so  graceful  and  an- 
imated." 

"  1^0  one  can  do  any  better  than  you  can, 
dear  Ella,  if  you  would  only  have  a  little  more 
confidence  in  yourself.  I  am  sure,  I,  for  one, 
think  they  showed  their  good  judgment  in 
selecting  you  for  their  queen,"  murmured  Eva. 
*'  How  beautiful  those  white  rose  buds  will  look 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  131 

in  your  dark  hair  !  You  must  be  sure  to  come 
in  and  see  me  before  you  go,  for  I  wish  to  be 
the  first  to  greet  your  majesty." 

"  How  I  wish  you  could  be  one  of  my  maids 
of  honor,  my  dearest  friend  !  I  know  I  should 
enjoy  myself  twice  as  well.  But  what  is  the 
matter,  darling  ?"  she  added,  as  a  slight  spasm 
contracted  her  companion's  face.  "  Is  that  pain 
coming  on  again  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  do  not  disturb  yourself,  it  will  be 
over  soon.  It  is  never  very  hard  to  bear  except 
at  night ;  then  it  is  the  sharpest  and  continues 
the  longest." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  patient,  Eva  ?  I  have 
so  much  to  make  me  happy,  and  I  am  so  often 
fretful  and  discontented ;  and  here  you  arc,  so 
young,  and  so  much  more  beautiful  than  any 
one  I  have  ever  seen,  confined  day  after  day  to 
this  darkened  room,  while  all  the  girls  of  your 
age  are  enjoying  this  beautiful  world.  Yet  do 
you  know,  darling,  I  sometimes  think  you  are 
happier  amid  all  your  suffering  than  we  are." 


1S2  CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOR. 

"  That  is  because  I  have  sources  of  happiness 
that  you  know  not  of.  The  pain  that  I  endure 
Is  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  inward  peace 
that  I  enjoy.  I  can  not  sport  in  the  sunshine 
or  amid  the  flowers,  it  is  true ;  but  He  who 
created  both  the  sun  and  the  flowers,  is  my 
Friend  and  Comforter.  Leaning  upon  His  arm, 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  and  fear  no  evil.  He  whispers  peace  to 
my  fainting  spirit,  and  though  he  shuts  me  out 
from  earthly  pleasures,  opens  my  eyes  to  behold 
the  rays  of  the  eternal  dawn,  and  floods  my 
soul  with  heavenly  light.  Often  and  often, 
dear  Ella,  as  I  have  struggled  with  my  parox- 
ysms of  pain,  I  have  seemed  to  hear  the  voices 
of  angels  round  the  throne,  and  felt  that  it 
would  not  be  long  before  I  should  bathe  in  that 
sea  of  glory,  and  make  one  of  that  adoring 
choir.  And  when  I  reach  that  home,  how  tri- 
fling will  this  world  seem  with  its  pleasures  and 
its  pains,  how  light  the  suffering  that  has  pre- 
pared  me  for  such  a  rest !" 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  133 

As  she  Spoke,  the  face  of  the  youthful  Chris- 
tian became  bright  as  that  of  an  angel.  The 
flush  of  enthusiasm  kindled  on  the  pale  cheek 
and  lighted  the  dark  eyes  with  an  almost  super- 
natural luster.  Her  gaze  was  fixed  heavenward, 
and  so  rapt  did  she  seem  in  this  vision  of  the 
joys  that  awaited  her,  that  Ella  almost  trem- 
bled lest  she  should  never  bring  it  back  to  the 
images  of  earth. 

Ella  gazed  upon  her  with  admiration  mingled 
with  awe.  She  knew  not  of  the  peace  of  which 
she  spoke,  by  experience ;  and  she  had  never 
heard  her  friend  speak  thus  openly  before  of 
the  hope  which  sustained  her.  What  would 
she  not  have  given  for  such  a  faith  and  hope  ? 
Yes,  for  a  moment,  the  gay,  the  merry,  the 
beautiM  Ella,  envied  the  poor,  crippled  friend 
whose  lot  was  so  full  of  privation  and  suffering. 

"I  never  shall  be  as  good  as  you  are,"  she 
sighed,  "  and  it  is  useless  for  me  to  try." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  talk  of  my  goodness, 
Ella.  If  that  were  my  only  reliance,  I  should 
12 


134  CLEMENTINA'S   MIEKOR. 

be  helpless  indeed.  But  I  know  that  Christ  has 
died  for  me.  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth, 
and  clothed  with  His  perfect  righteousness,  I  go 
forward  without  fear,  to  receive  my  crown  of 
rejoicing." 

"  But  you  must  be  a  great  deal  better  than 
I  am,  naturally,"  persisted  Eva.  "  You  never 
could  have  been  so  wicked  as  I  am,  or  you 
would  not  be  so  patient  and  resigned." 

"  You  must  never  speak  so  of  me  again," 
said  Eva,  turning  upon  her  a  sorrowful  glance. 
*'  You  do  not  know  the  painful  memories  that 
you  awaken.  There  never  was  a  prouder, 
harder  heart  than  mine  in  the  days  of  my  early 
youth.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  tell  you  the  story 
of  my  life ;  you  have  often  expressed  a  wish  to 
hear  it,  and  it  may  serve  as  a  warning  to  you." 

*'  Oh,  do,  darling !  I  am  ready  to  listen  to 
you  now.  I  have  often  longed  to  know  if  you 
were  always  as  I  now  see  you." 

"No,  Ella.  I  was  not  always  lame.  I  was 
once   as  gay  and    thoughtless,   but  far   more 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIKKOE.  135 

worldly  than  you  are,  my  darling.  I  had  often 
been  told  that  I  was  beautiful,  and  I  gloried  in 
the  thought,  entirely  forgetful  of  Him  who 
bestowed  this  blessing  upon  me.  Nothing 
delighted  me  more  than  to  deck  my  lovely 
form  in  the  most  becoming  manner,  and,  ming- 
ling among  my  youthful  companions,  to  hear 
whispers  of '  lovely,'  '  perfectly  charming,'  *  how 
beautiful  she  is !' 

"I  would  affect  to  treat  such  tributes  of 
admiration  with  indifference,  but  my  steps  were 
more  elastic  as  I  bounded  away  from  the  scenes 
of  my  girlish  triumphs.  My  heart  was  filled 
with  joy,  as  I  noticed  how  anxious  all  were  to 
secure  my  friendship,  and  I  even  exulted  in 
the  ill-concealed  envy  of  some  of  the  more  ill- 
natured  among  them,  as  it  fed  the  flames  of  my 
vanity.  * 

"I  was  early  deprived  of  a  mother's  care, 
and  my  kind  aunt,  who  would  gladly  have  filled 
her  place,  could  never  gain  much  control  over 
my  high   sj^irit.      I    loved   my   gentle   auntie 


136  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

dearly,  and  was  willing  to  do  almost  any  thing 
for  her  except  the  only  thing  she  wished.  I 
would  not  be  guided  by  her,  and  as  to  listen- 
ing to  her  homilies,  as  I  disrespectfully  termed 
them,  that  was  too  much  for  her  to  expect. 

"  She  had  not  a  mother's  authority,  though 
she  had  a  mother's  love  for  her  rebellious 
charge,  and  after  many  attempts  to  win  me 
to  more  serious  moods,  she  was  compelled  to 
allow  me  to  go  on  in  my  own  frivolous  career. 
So  I  passed  on  with  hardly  a  serious  reflection, 
till  I  reached  my  sixteenth  year. 

"  A  few  weeks  after  I  celebrated  my  fifteenth 
birthday,  there  was  to  be  a  ball  given  at  the 
public  house  of  the  village  where  we  Uved,  and 
all  the  fashionable  and  wealthy  were  going  to 
attend.  JVfany  of  my  companions  were  among 
the  favored  ban^,  and  I  heard  them  describe 
the  music,  the  dancing,  the  gay  dress,  and 
the  many  delights  attendant  upon  such  an 
occasion,  till  I  longed  to  share  in  this  hitherto 
forbidden  pleasure.      Something  whispered  in 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIKEOR,  137 

my  heart  that  I  should  be  more  sought  and 
admired  than  the  richest  belle  there,  if  I  might 
only  go.  But  I  did  not  know  how  to  accom- 
plish my  wishes. 

"  My  father  was  a  kind,  easy  man,  fondly 
thinking  his  only  child  every  thing  that  was 
perfect,  and  seldom  interfering  with  my  pleas- 
ures. But  he  was  as  firm  as  a  rock  where  his 
principles  were  concerned,  and  I  knew  that  he 
not  only  totally  disapproved  of  public  balls,  but 
that  he  would  consider  me  far  too  young  to 
enter  into  general  society,  even  had  he  ap- 
proved of  them. 

*'  He  had  never  allowed  me  to  learn  to  dance 
that  I  might  not  be  led  into  temptation  ;  but  I 
had  managed  to  catch  the  steps  from  some  of 
my  more  fortunate  fiiends  (as  I  then  thought 
them),  and,  aided  by  a  little  practice,  and  the 
natural  grace  and  lightness  of  my  movements, 
I  had  become  a  very  good  dancer.  I  now 
longed  for  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  this  cher- 
ished accomplishment.  There  were  many  dif 
12* 


138  CLEMENTTN-A'S   MIKROE. 

ficulties  to  be  overcome,  but  I  did  not  de- 
spair. 

"  Never  did  a  daughter  exert  herself  moi*e 
to  please  a  father  than  I  did  on  the  night  I  pre- 
ferred my  request.  I  arrayed  myself  in  my 
most  becoming  dress.  My  school  reports  were 
perfect,  and  there  was  one  special  clause  com- 
mending my  conduct  which  I  knew  it  would 
delight  him  to  see.  His  slippers  and  dressing 
gown  were  warmed  and  ready  for  his  use  ;  and 
his  coffee,  which  I  carefully  prepared  with  my 
own  hands,  was  never  better  suited  to  his  taste. 
My  aunt  seemed  to  suspect  some  hidden  mo* 
tive  for  this  unusual  amiability  ;  but  my  unsus- 
pecting father  yielded  himself  entirely  to  the 
delight  of  my  attentions. 

"I  exerted  myself  to  the  utmost  on  seeing 
this,  and  mine  were  no  common  powers  of  fas- 
cination. As  his  eye,  beaming  with  pride  and 
pleasure,  rested  upon  me,  I  told  him  of  my 
cherished  wish.  For  an  instant  he  hesitated, 
and  I  thought  I  had  conquered ;  but  I  little 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  139 

knew  my  father.  He  only  hesitated,  because 
he  could  not  bear  to  pain  his  darling  by  a  re- 
fusal. It  came  at  last ;  and  the  decision  of  his 
tone  and  manner  might  have  convinced  me  that 
ray  suit  was  hopeless.  Still  I  begged  and  en- 
treated. It  was  useless,  and,  at  last,  wearied 
by  my  importunity,  he  left  the  room,  desiring 
me  to  think  no  more  of  it. 

"  It  was  well  that  he  could  not  see  the  storm 
of  passion  that  was  raging  in  my  heart.  I  went 
to  my  room,  threw  myself  upon  my  bed,  and 
wept  without  restraint  for  some  time.  I  slept 
in  a  little  room  within  my  aunt's,  and  could 
only  enter  it  by  passing  through  hers.  I  heard 
her  come  up  stairs  and  approach  my  door.  She 
spoke  to  me,  but  receiving  no  answer,  supposed 
I  had  fallen  asleep,  and  quietly  retired  to  rest. 

"I  was  still  restless  and  unhappy.  I  arose 
and  looked  out.  The  moon  was  shining  in  all 
her  splendor,  but  her  pure  beams  brought  no 
calm  to  my  troubled  spirit. 

"  Thoughts   of  the   forbidden  pleasure  were 


140  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRKOE. 

rushing  through  my  mind  like  a  strong  deep 
river,  and  wave  after  wave  of  vanity  rolled 
over,  and  entirely  swallowed  up  every  high  and 
holy  aspiration.  I  pictured  to  myself  the  scene 
of  gayety,  the  flattered  belles,  the  attendant 
beaux,  the  merry  dance,  the  peals  of  music,  till 
my  heart  ached  and  my  tears  flowed  afresh. 

"  Suddenly  the  temptei  whispered,  '  Why 
not  go  to  the  ball  ?  Your  father  is  foolish  and 
whimsical.  Why  should  you  allow  yourself  to 
be  kept  away  from  so  innocent  an  entertain- 
ment by  his  prohibition  ?' 

"  At  first  I  started  with  horror  at  the  thought ; 
but  as  I  did  not  immediately  banish  it  from  my 
mind,  it  returned  again  and  again.  As  it  be- 
came more  familiar,  it  did  not  seem  so  repul 
sive,  and  at  last,  so  much  did  my  wishes  blind 
my  judgment,  that  it  seemed  almost  inno- 
cent. 

"  But  there  was  another  difficulty  to  be  over- 
come. I  could  not  go  out  through  my  aunt's 
room  without  arousing  her,  and  I  thought  I 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIRROR.  141 

should  be  obliged  to  relinquish  my  purpose 
after  all.  But  Satan  soon  devised  a  plan  by 
which  I  could  gratify  my  evil  desire. 

"  My  window  opened  upon  a  balcony.  From 
that  descended  a  trellis  work  to  support  my 
favorite  vines,  planted  by  ray  father  to  please 
my  taste.  He  little  thought  it  would  ever  help 
me  to  disobey  him.  I  shook  it  with  my  hand, 
and  found  that  it  was  firm  enough  to  support 
my  weight. 

"  My  resolution  was  taken. 

"  I  softly  lighted  a  candle,  and  proceeded  to 
the  business  of  the  toilette.  I  drew  forth  a 
pretty  dress  of  white  muslin,  the  only  article 
at  all  suitable  for  such  an  occasion  which  my 
wardrobe  afforded.  I  looped  up  the  sleeves 
and  skirt  with  bunches  of  white  rose  buds  and 
geranium  leaves  that  I  had  happened  to  place 
in  my  vase  that  morning. 

"  Another  bouquet  of  the  same  flowers  rested 
upon  my  bosom.  I  gathered  up  my  flowing 
curls,  and  confined  them  with  a  pearl  comb— 


142  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKROE. 

my  mother's  gift — alas  !  that  I  could  ever  have 
worn  it  on  such  an  occasion — and  arranged  a 
few  white  blossoms  "vvith  studied  carelessness 
among  them. 

"  My  heart  fluttered  with  nervous  joy  as  I 
cast  a  satisfied  glance  at  the  beautiful  face  and 
form  reflected  in  my  little  mirror ;  yet,  even  as 
I  drew  my  cloak  around  me,  my  conscience 
gave  an  uncomfortable  twinge.  I  had  fully 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  at  all  hazards.  I  had 
even  planned  how  I  could  enter  with  a  friend, 
Bo  that  my  father  would  never  know  it.  I  said 
to  myself  over  and  over  again  that  it  was  per- 
fectly innocent ;  but  I  could  not  cheat  myself. 
I,  who  had  never  known  fear  before,  started  at 
my  own  shadow  in  the  moonlight.  The  even- 
ing was  warm,  yet  I  felt  a  cold  chill  creeping 
through  my  veins. 

"  The  trellis  was  strong,  but  my  foot  was  un- 
steady. I  placed  it  upon  the  slender  lattice- 
work, took  one  step  in  my  descent,  slipped  and 
fell.    I  remember  a  sharp  pain  shooting  through 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  143 

my  back,  a  long,  loud  cry  of  agony,  and  then 
all  was  darkness. 

"  When  I  came  to  myself  my  father  and  aunt 
were  bending  over  me.  My  face  was  covered 
with  conscious  blushes,  but  I  read  no  reproaches 
in  theirs — nothing  but  deep  pity,  tenderness 
and  anxiety  for  me. 

"  '  Forgive,'  I  whispered  in  my  father's  ear. 

"  *•  All  is  freely  forgiven,  my  child,'  was  hia 
kind  reply.  '  Do  not  agitate  yourself  by  speak- 
ing of  the  past  now.  You  have  been  very  ill, 
but  now  we  trust  you  will  soon  be  better.' 

"  Ella,  I  recovered  from  that  sickness  ;  but  I 
have  never  since  then  stood  upon  my  feet.  I 
fell  upon  my  back  with  such  violence  that  I 
injured  my  spine;  and  when  I  tried  to  rise, 
found  that  I  had  entirely  lost  the  use  of  ray 
limbs. 

**  What  suffering  was  mine  when  the  truth 
first  revealed  itself  to  me,  I  trust  you  may  never 
know.  I  was  rebellious  and  peevish.  I  longed 
for  death,  and  yet  I  feared  to  die.     Many  hours 


144  CLEMENTINA'S    MIRKOE. 

of  pain  succeeded,  but  at  last  my  soul  found 
peace. 

"  My  father  and  aunt  were  both  sincere 
Christians.  Though  they  grieved  over  their 
darling,  and  sympathized  in  my  sufferings,  they 
manifested  a  cheerful  resignation  to  the  will  of 
Heaven.  They  both  devoted  themselves  entire- 
ly to  me ;  they  prayed  for  and  with  me  till  the 
light  broke  upon  my  dark  spirit.  I  learned  to 
bless  the  hand  that  had  laid  me  low ;  and  now 
I  «an  thank  my  heavenly  Father  that  He  has 
cut  me  off  from  the  earthly  objects  that  I  loved 
so  well,  and  that  proved  such  a  snare  to  me, 
and  that  He  has  revealed  Himself  unto  me." 

"  It  is  hard,  very  hard,"  said  Ella,  who  had 
been  silently  weeping.  "  I  think  you  were  too 
severely  punished  for  a  single  fault.  Four  years 
of  suffering  for  one  act  of  disobedience  !" 

"  Beware  how  you  speak  thus,  darling.  Think 
whom  yoji  accuse  of  injustice  when  you  pro- 
nounce my  punishment  too  severe.  Our  first 
parents  brought  sin  into  the  world  by  a  single 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  145 

act  of  disobedience.  How  can  I  murmur  then 
when  a  similar  transgression  has  opened  unto 
me  the  gates  of  eternal  life  ?  But  I  must  not 
talk  any  more  now,  for  I  am  very  tired.  Go 
and  dress  and  come  in  to  see  me  before  you  go, 
that  I  may  enjoy  the  sight  of  your  loveliness." 

Silently  kissing  her  friend,  while  the  large 
tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks  proved  how 
deep  was  her  sympathy,  Ella  lefl  her. 

Eva  lay  quite  still  with  closed  eyes  and  clasped 
hands  as  if  in  prayer.  A  peaceful,  holy  expres- 
sion rested  upon  her  pale  face,  and  a  smile  play- 
ed around  the  lovely  mouth.  Not  much  longer 
will  be  the  school  of  endurance  for  thee,  poor 
child.  Soon  there  will  be  one  more  place  vacant 
upon  earth,  one  more  soul  rejoicing  in  henven. 

Ella  soon  reentered  the  apartment,  covered 
with  her  fragrant  garlands,  and  looking  as  pure 
and  fresh  in  her  youthful  beauty  as  the  flowers 
themselves.  Her  hour  of  sadness  had  passed 
away,  and  a  restless  light  danced  in  her  merry 
blue  eyes  as  she  thought  of  the  festival  in  which 
13 


146  CLEMENTINA^S   MIBKOK. 

she  was  to  bear  so  distinguished  a  part.  "  I  am 
glad  you  can  feel  as  you  do,  darling,"  she  whis- 
pered, "but  I  can  not  think  of  these  things  just 
yet.     There  is  so  much  in  this  world  to  enjoy." 

As  she  bounded  lightly  away  Clementina  was 
conscious  that  her  own  spirit  sounded  a  sympar 
thetic  chord  with  that  of  so  bright  and  beauti- 
ful a  creature.  "There  is  a  great  deal  to  en- 
joy," she  murmured  to  herself,  and  immediately 
the  life-like  picture  faded  from  her  view. 

She  found  that  her  companions  were  consid- 
erably in  advance  and  wondering  what  had  be- 
come of  her.  The  spell  of  her  discontent  was 
broken  for  that  day.  She  was  in  her  merriest, 
most  obliging  mood.  No  one  knew  better  how 
to  make  themselves  agreeable  than  she  did,  and 
so  much  did  she  exert  herself  for  her  compan- 
ions' entertainment  that  they  were  charmed 
with  her,  and  their  happiness  was  reflected  in 
her  own  heart.  And  Harry  Edwards  whispered 
to  her  in  confidence,  that  he  was  dreadfully  dis- 
appointed because  he  could  not  invite  her  to 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  147 

ride  home  in  his  carriage,  and  promised  to  drive 
both  her  and  her  mother  out  very  soon. 

As  she  concluded  her  story,  Mrs.  Grey  spoke 
of  the, evils  arising  fi'om  the  indulgence  of  the 
feeling  of  vanity,  and  the  delightful  effect  of 
religion  in  sustaining  the  soul  under  calamity, 
and  in  purifying  and  sanctifying  the  heart. 

Her  youthful  auditors  looked  very  serious, 
and  we  hope  were  properly  impressed  by  the 
affliction  that  fell  upon  the  thoughtless  Eva. 

"  But  I  want  to  know  what  became  of  her 
after  that,  and  how  Ella  got  through  her  par- 
ty," said  Charlie. 

"  You  must  take  these  sketches  as  you  find 
them,"  said  his  mother,  laughing.  "  If  Clem- 
entina had  not  conquered  her  evil  temper  so 
soon,  perhaps  we  might  have  found  out  more 
about  them." 

"  Then  I  wish  she  had  staid  bad,  longer,"  said 
the  little  boy,  shaking  his  head;  and  though 
the  girls  laughed,  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  in 
their  secret  hearts  they  did  not  echo  the  wish. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

N    Saturday   evening,    Mrs.    Grey   was 
seated  earlier  than  usual  at  her  table, 
with  her  manuscript  before  her.     It  was 
not  many  moments    before    the  little 
family  gathered  eagerly  around  her. 
"The  last  evening,"  said  Mr.  Grey, 
"  I  hope  that  you  will  give  us  a  good  long  story 
that  we  may  enjoy  ourselves  as  much  as  possi- 
ble." 

The  girls  looked  sad  and  unusually  quiet  as 
Mrs.  Grey  began. 

For  a  long  time  after  the  pic-nic,  Clemen- 
tina was  not  troubled  with  any  relapse  into  her 
sullen  moods.  She  had  learned  to  be  thankful 
for  one  more  blessing  that  she  had  never  much 
considered  because  it  was  so  common  ;  and  for 
awhile  she  felt  as  if  her  health  and  youth  were 
new  acquisitions. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  149 

But  one  more  trial  was  in  store  for  her. 

She  was  invited  by  a  favorite  cousin  to  spend 
the  week  with  her  at  her  home,  a  few  miles  dis- 
tant. She  was  to  return  from  school  one  Sat- 
urday afternoon,  and  she  wished  Clementina  to 
accompany  her.  She  was  very  anxious  to  ac- 
cept, but  her  mother  would  not  consent  to  her 
going  till  the  Monday  following,  as  she  knew 
that  her  aunt's  family  did  not  observe  the 
Sabbath  very  strictly,  and  she  feared  that  her 
young  daughter  might  be  tempted  to  pas^the 
day  in  an  unprofiable  manner.  Besides,  she 
preferred  not  to  liave  her  absent  from  her  own 
church  and  Sunday-School,  even  for  once,  un- 
less it  were  absolutely  necessary. 

Clementina  sat  in  her  own  little  room  prepar- 
ing her  Bible  lesson.  She  held  the  Holy  Book 
listlessly  in  her  hand,  but  its  precepts  did  not 
enter  into  her  heart,  as  she  sat  gazing  from  the 
window  and  musing  upon  the  forbidden  pleas- 
ure. 

"It  is  too  bad,"  she  exclaimed  aloud,  "for 
13* 


150  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

mother  to  keep  rue  at  home  just  on  account  of 
that  old  Sunday  School.  It  is  well  enough  for 
her  to  be  so  dreadfully  strict,  but  I  do  not  pro- 
fess to  be  a  Christian,  and  it  is  useless  for  her  to 
try  to  make  me  one,  unless  I  choose.  I  do  not 
believe  I  shall  ever  be  religious  if  one  has  to 
give  up  all  enjoyment.  I  should  not  care  if 
there  vrere  no  such  day  as  Sunday,  for  my 
part." 

The  wicked  thought  animated  the  mirror, 
andi^she  consulted  it  once  more. 

p  c  H  t  Ij  e  n    ^^  0  r  s  Ij  i  p . 

In  a  moment  she  found  herself  surrounded 
by  a  vast  multitude.  The  people  among  whom 
she  found  herself  were  under  the  influence  of 
great  excitement.  Pale  and  haggard  faces, 
lighted  with  a  ferocious  gleam,  and  dusky 
forms  reeling  to  and  fro,  showed  the  occasion 
was  one  of  uncommon  interest.  They  con- 
versed in  an  unknown  tongue,  so  that  she  could 
not   understand    them,    but    she    instinctively 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE.  151 

shrank  from  their  fierce  gestures  and  wild  cries. 
Suddenly  loud  shouts  rent  the  air,  while  a  low 
rumbling  sound  made  her  fear  that  an  earth- 
quake was  at  hand. 

Raising  her  eyes,  she  beheld  a  fearful  mon- 
ster, with  black  and  awful  visage  and  mouth  of 
flame,  drawn  on  an  enormous  car  by  shouting 
and  adoring  crowds.  Nearer  and  nearer  he 
came,  and  numerous  travel-stained  and  worn 
pilgrims  prostrated  themselves  directly  in  the 
•way  by  which  he  must  pass.  One  more  turn 
of  those  wheels  and  a  benighted  soul  would  be 
hurried  into  eternity.  Her  blood  ran  cold  ^vdth 
horror,  but  she  saw  no  way  of  escape.  Invol- 
untarily she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish. 

Instantly  the  tumult  ceased.  She  looked  up 
in  surprise  and  found  herself  near  to  the  bank 
of  a  river.  Delighted  with  the  sudden  change 
from  such  a  storm  of  excitement  to  a  perfect 
calm,  she  sank  into  a  pleasant  reverie,  yielding 


152  CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOE. 

herself  without  restraint  to  the  influence  of  the 
beauties  of  nature  that  surrounded  her.  Her 
attention  was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  a  fe- 
male voice  whose  low  and  musical  accents  were 
every  now  and  then  interrupted  by  that  soft, 
cooing  noise  by  which  an  infant  responds  to  ex- 
pressions of  endearment. 

Looking  around  her,  she  espied  a  beautiful 
young  woman  near  her,  seated  in  the  shade  of 
a  banyan  tree,  and  holding  in  her  arms  a  babe 
of  six  months ;  again  and  again  did  she  press 
the  little  being  to  her  bosom,  striving  by  many 
a  wild  caress  to  testify  the  affection  that  filled 
her  heart. 

Clementina  amused  herself  some  time  in 
watching  the  graceful  movements  of  this  un- 
taught child  of  nature,  while  she  felt  her  sym- 
pathies strongly  drawn  out  towards  the  young 
mother  in  her  innocent  happiness.  Suddenly 
she  heard  a  manly  step  approaching,  and  the 
husband  and  father  stood  before  the  wife  and 
mother. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIEROE.  153 

He  was  a  young,  vigorous  man,  with  a  frank, 
fearless  expression  of  countenance  that  waa  very 
pleasing,  but  the  smile  with  which  he  was  ready 
to  greet  his  wife,  gave  place  to  a  dark  frown  as 
he  saw  her  occupation ;  while  his  infant  daugh- 
ter shrank  from  him  and  nestled  more  closely  in 
her  mother's  bosom. 

He  addressed  the  trembling  creature  in  harsh 
tones,  and  seemed  about  to  tear  the  infmt  from 
her  grasp,  but  she  shielded  it  from  liim  with  her 
arm  and  strove  to  appease*  his  wrath.  Her  soft, 
low  tones  effected  her  purpose,  for  the  beaming 
smile  again  returned,  but  the  shadow  that  had 
left  his  countenance  settled  upon  hers.  When 
he  again  left  her  the  shadow  deepened  till  it 
became  the  blackness  of  despair. 

Depositing  her  precious  burden  upon  the 
ground,  she  drew  a  small  black  image  from 
some  hiding-place,  and  prostrated  herself  before 
it.  She  remained  thus  for  some  time,  weeping 
convulsively,  then  arose  with  a  look  of  stern 


154  CLEMENTINA'S   MlJiBOR. 

determination  that  showed  how  great  a  change 
had  t|iken  place  within  her  heart. 

Once  more  she  clasped  the  infant  to  her  bos- 
om and  neared  the  water's  edge.  Tiiis  time 
she  did  not  dare  to  gaze  upon  the  many  perfec- 
tions of  her  little  plaything.  All  girlish  mirth 
had  left  her,  and  she  turned  a  suffering  woman's 
glance  upon  the  deep,  dark  river.  Once  again 
she  pressed  the  tiny  form  to  her  heart  as  if  she 
would  hold  it  there  forever ;  once  more  she  im- 
pressed a  loving  kiss  upon  the  innocent  brow, 
and  then,  with  averted  face,  she  cast  the  infant 
from  her. 

The  little  one  gave  one  wild  cry  as  it  felt  the 
protecting  arms  withdrawn.  That  cry  struck 
like  a  death-knell  upon  the  mother's  ear.  In- 
voluntarily she  gave  a  last  look,  and  beheld  the 
loving  little  arms  stretched  out  towards  her, 
and  the  soft,  beseeching  eyes  fixed  reproach- 
fully upon  her,  as  the  waters  closed  over  them 
forever. 

Human  nature  could  endure  no  more.     Her 


-^-^^^ 


"Once  more  she  impressed  a  lovinj;  kiss  upon  the  innocent  brow, 
and  then,  with  averted  face,  she  cast  tlie  infant  from  her." 

Pa-e  154. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  155 

maternal  love,  which  was  almost  a  savage  in- 
stinct, impelled  her  to  self-destruction.  With 
a  piercing  cry,  as  if  her  heart  was  broken,  she 
threw  herself  into  the  stream.  And  there  the 
mother  and  child  will  sleep  together  till  the 
deep  shall  give  up  its  dead. 

Clementina  was  very  much  overcome  by 
these  sad  scenes,  and  longed  to  give  the  signal 
for  return  to  her  own  home ;  but  she  was  not 
to  escape  so  easily.  Just  as  she  was  hoping  to 
be  transported  thither,  a  silvery  voice  which 
she  well  knew  sounded  in  her  ear  the  following 
rhyme : 

'*  Poor  sinful  maiden,  now  you  stand 
On  the  benighted  heathen's  land ; 
Come,  Bee  new  evils  to  deplore, 
On  what  is  called  a  Christian  shore." 

Clementina  was  immediately  enveloped  in 
darkness. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

^tntxitt,    or   t  Ij c    §;  u  it . 

S  the  mists  rolled,  she  saw  a  band  of 
young  girls  making  merry  in  a  beauti- 
ful garden.  Some  were  lightly  danc- 
ing on  the  green  grass ;  some  were 
plucking  the  choicest  of  the  flowers 
and  grouping  them  together  according  to  their 
fancy ;  while  some,  more  seriously  inclined, 
strolled  in  the  shaded  avenues,  or  reclining  be- 
neath some  spreading  tree,  brought  forth  from 
the  store-house  of  memory  legends  of  the  olden 
time  to  entertain  and  astonish  each  other. 

But  the  gayest  of  the  gay  ones  there  assem- 
bled was  a  young  girl,  called  by  her  companions 
Beatrice.  It  was  in  celebration  of  her  fifteenth 
birthday  that  the.  company  had  been  called  to- 
getlier.     And  so  merry  was  her  mood  that  the 


CLEMENTINA'S    MIEROR.  157 

sun  seemed  to  shine  more  bi'ightly  where  she 
passed,  and  the  little  flowers  raised  their  heads 
to  kiss  her  feet  as  she  flitted  lightly  to  and  fro 
among  them. 

Clementina  was  just  wishing  that  she  might 
mingle  in  their  sports  when  the  mists  again  ob- 
Bcm-ed  her  sight. 

When  she  was  again  able  to  discern  objects, 
she  found  herself  in  a  lofty  apartment.  Heavy 
curtains  almost  entirely  obscured  the  light  of 
day,  and  crimson  tapestry  covered  the  walls, 
except  where  a  spacious  mirror  extended  from 
the  ceiling  to  the  floor. 

Upon  a  splendid  couch  of  carved  ebony,  a 
slight  girlish  form  was  extended.  So  emaciated 
were  the  small  white  hands  that  rested  upon  the 
coverlid,  that  they  left  the  beholder  almost  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  they  were  a  shadow  or  a 
substance  ;  and  so  pale  was  the  cheek  that 
pressed  the  snowy  pillow  that  the  transparent 

outline  was  just  visible. 
14 


158  CLEMENTINA'S    MIREOK. 

Gazing  more  intently  upon  the  prostrate 
form,  Clementina  recognized  the  features  of 
Beatrice.  But  how  sad  a  change  had  passed 
upon  her  since  she  last  beheld  her  !  The  merry 
expression  was  succeeded  by  one  so  restless  and 
wandering  that  Clementina  was  grieved,  and  she 
began  to  wonder  why  no  kind  friend  stood  near 
to  soothe  the  sick  girl's  pain,  when  she  espied 
a  dark  form  half  concealed  by  the  curtain  that 
draped  the  bed. 

It  was  the  figure  of  a  man  with  a  large  black 
cloak  thrown  around  him ;  a  hood  of  the  same 
material  thrown  back  revealed  a  shaven  crown, 
and  the  outline  of  stern,  dark  features,  while  the 
black  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  look  of  sinister  tri- 
umph upon  the  ajDparently  dying  girl.  In  his 
right  hand  he  held  a  golden  cross  which  he  ele- 
vated high  in  the  air,  striving  to  call  the  peni- 
tent's attention  to  the  sacred  emblem. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  murmured,  "  very  strange, 
Father.  I  have  confessed,  and  you  have  grant- 
ed me  absolution.    You  are  sure  that  the  masses 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRKOE.  159 

my  possessions  will  buy  will  bring  my  soul  out 
of  purgatory  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  you  shall  not  remain 
there  a  single  day  if  the  prayers  of  the  Church 
may  avail." 

"  You  are  sure  they  will  avail  ?" 

"Dost  thou  doubt  the  power  of  the  holy 
Church,  my  daughter  ?"  he  replied,  fixing  upon 
her  a  glance  of  severe  displeasure. 

"  Forgive  me.  Father,  I  am  very  weak.  It 
seems  as  if  my  mind  wanders.  I  have  trusted 
myself  entirely  to  your  guidance,  but  in  this 
last  hour  it  seems  as  if  the  tempter  had  power 
over  my  spirit,  for  I  almost  doubt  at  times  the 
efficacy  of  my  prayers  and  your  intercession  ;" 
and  the  poor  child  passed  her  hand  over  her 
brow  as  if  to  brush  away  some  vail  that  ob- 
scured her  vision. 

"  Count  your  rosary,  my  daughter,  when 
such  doubts  oppress  you  and  the  tempter  will 
flee." 

"  Alas,  Father,  I  can  not  recall  a  single  prayer. 


160  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

I  can  not  imagine  why  I  should  feel  thus;  I 
have  never  missed  a  single  mass  or  confessional 
since  I  can  remember,  and  I  should  think  the 
tempter  would  have  no  power  over  me  now." 

*'  Perhaps  there  is  some  reservation  in  your 
heart,  my  daughter ;  perhaps  you  do  not  feel 
willing  to  give  all  that  you  have  towards  ad- 
vancing the  interests  of  the  Church." 

"  All ;  why  Father  !  All  that  I  have,  except 
a  small  portion  for  my  poor  widowed  mother, 
shall  be  bestowed  upon  the  Chm-cb ;  and,  after 
my  death,  will  not  the  vast  possessions  of  my 
father  pass  away  from  our  family  forever  ?" 

*'  But  in  case  you  should  be  permitted  to  re- 
cover, what  would  you  do,  my  child  ?  Do  not 
deceive  yourself.  Should  you  return  again  to 
the  thoughtless  life  you  once  led  for  happiness?" 
said  the  wily  hypocrite. 

*'  "What  would  you  have  me  to  do,  Father  ? 
I  will  be  guided  entirely  by  you." 

"  Abandon  a  world  so  full  of  wickedness, 
bestow  your  vast   wealth    upon    your  beloved 


CUaiEENTINA'S   MIRKOE.  161 

Church,  be  yourself  the  spouse  of  Christ,  and 
find  iu  the  reth*ement  of  a  convent  that  happi- 
ness which  you  have  vainly  sought  in  worldly 
pleasure." 

"  I  have  left  the  matter  entirely  to  you, 
Father  ;  but  consider  my  widowed  mother.  I 
am  the  pride  and  joy  of  her  heart,  the  only 
comfort  and  support  of  her  old  age ;  would  it 
be  right  for  me  to  abandon  her  ?" 

"  The  ties  of  natural  affection  are  strong,  the 
claims  of  filial  love  are  sweet,  but  they  must  be 
snapped  asunder  and  disregarded  if  the  cause 
of  Christ  demands  it.  Do  not  hesitate,  ray 
child,  to  make  the  sacrifice.  Here,"  he  con- 
tinued, advancing  close  to  her  and  holding  the 
golden  crucifix  to  her  lips,  "  make  your  choice. 
In  this  solemn  hour,  when  your  soul  is  hovering 
between  earth  and  heaven,  when  you  know  not 
whether  another  sun  will  dawn  upon  your  mor- 
tal life,  swear  upon  this  sacred  emblem  that  you 
will  give  yourself  and  all  that  you  have  to  the 
cause  of  Christ  in  any  event,  and  you  will  enjoy 


162  CLEME]SmNA*S   MIREOR. 

rest  and  peace,  and  your  name  will  be  blessed 
by  many  a  holy  nun  when  you  shall  liave  gone 
to  meet  your  royal  Spouse  in  heaven." 

The  sick  girl  raised  herself  with  a  sudden 
movement ;  a  flush  of  enthusiasm  kindled  on 
her  pale  face  as  she  clasped  the  crucifix  to  her 
heart.  "  I  swear,"  she  cried,  "  that,  come 
what  will,  it  shall  be  as  you  have  said." 

And  then,  completely  overcome  with  agita^ 
tion  and  excitement,  she  fell  back,  half  fainting, 
upon  her  pillow. 

A  smile  of  triumph  flickered  upon  the  dark, 
stern  visage  of  the  priest  for  a  moment,  and 
then  died  away.  "I  have  secured  her  now, 
body  and  soul,"  he  muttered,  as  he  turned 
from  the  bed  and  left  the  apartment.  "  Come 
what  will,  these  vast  possessions  will  be  ours,  a 
magnificent  donation  to  the  holy  Church." 

Darkness  again  reigned. 

The  returning  light  revealed  to  Clementina 
a  spacious  cathedral.     Crowds  of  anxious  spec- 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  163 

tators  were  assembled  to  witness  some  event  of 
thrilling  interest.  Tall  candles  burned  upon  a 
splendid  altar  hung  with  garlands  of  pure,  white 
flowers,  while  a  life-hke  picture  of  the  Madonna 
gazing  down  upon  it,  seemed  to  reproach  the 
mockery  of  the  transaction  that  was  about  to 
tike  place  there. 

Now,  a  side  door  opened,  and  bursts  of 
bewitching  melody  reverberated  through  the 
church  as  a  long  train  of  holy  sisters,  with 
downcast  eyes,  slow^ly  advanced. 

Each  nun  bore  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand, 
and  as  its  gleams  fell  upon  her  pale  face  in  its 
etatue-like  repose,  it  produced  so  ghastly  au 
eflect  that  one  could  almost  imagine  a  company 
of  ghosts  of  the  departed  had  found  their  way 
back  to  the  earth,  and  were  now  about  tc 
reveal  to  the  living  the  secrets  of  the  eternal 
world. 

Then  followed  a  band  of  priests  with  solemn, 
stern,  impenetrable  faces,  but  their  stout  forms 
and  wily  expression  were  not  so  saint-like,  and 


164  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRKOR. 

could  not  be  made  to  present  such  a  spiritual 
appearance  by  any  aids  of  light  or  distance. 

The  sistei-s  seated  themselves  on  one  side  of 
the  altar,  and  the  priests  on  the  other,  and  so 
motionless  were  they,  that  they  seemed  carved 
out  of  the  solid  stone  on  which  they  rested. 

Then  burst  forth  a  more  triumphant  strain  as 
four  holy  priests,  clad  in  the  richest  robes,  sta^ 
tioned  themselves  before  the  altar  ;  then  it  sub- 
sided into  the  softest  melody  as  the  door  again 
opened  and  a  young  and  beautiful  maiden  ad- 
vanced into  the  church,  leaning  upon  the  arm 
of  the  lady  abbess. 

Her  dress,  of  the  most  costly  lace,  swept 
lightly  over  a  robe  of  the  richest  white  satin, 
looped  up  here  and  there  with  bunches  of 
pearls.  The  sleeves,  caught  up  on  the  shoulder 
by  a  single  gem  of  uncommon  size,  revealed  an 
arm  of  snowy  whiteness,  and  perfect  enough  ii? 
its  proportions  for  artist's  model. 

A  vail  of  point  lace,  which  was  confined  to 
her  small  and  graceful  head  by  a  wreath  of 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  165 

orange  blossoms,  fell  back  from  her  shoulders, 
revealing  a  form  that  a  sylph  might  have 
envied. 

But  Avho  can  describe  the  expression  of  that 
face,  as  she  stood  before  the  altar  where  she 
was  to  sacrifice  all  her  brilliant  prospects,  and 
offer  up  herself  as  a  victim  ?  Never  was  sculp- 
tured marble  whiter  than  that  face.  The  trans- 
parent complexion,  the  pure  Grecian  outline,  the 
perfect  repose,  would  hardly  have  seemed  life- 
like, were  it  not  for  the  rapt  expression  of  the 
large,  dark  eyes,  fixed  heavenward,  as  if  the 
unseen  world  were  indeed  revealed  to  her,  and 
she  was  gazing  with  rapture  upon  her  Redeemer 
and  her  Lord. 

Low  and  sweet  as  the  strains  of  an  aeolian 
harp  was  her  voice,  and  not  an  adverse  wind 
trembled  upon  the  chords  as  she  pronounced 
clearly  and  distinctly  the  vows  that  were  to 
shut  her  out  from  the  world  forever. 

The  vail  was  then  cast  aside  and  the  flowing 
tresses  fell  upon  the  pavement,  cut  off  from  the 


166  CLEMENTINA'S   MIKKOR. 

graceful  head  which  they  had  adorned  by  the 
same  ruthless  hand  which  had  severed  all  the 
ties  and  associations  of  her  past  life. 

They  cast  over  her  a  black  vail  which  fell 
around  her  lovely  form  like  the  shades  of  night, 
and  she  then  prostrated  herself  in  an  open  coffin, 
while  slowly  and  solemnly  pealed  forth  the  ma»s 
for  the  dead. 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  spectators  at  this 
last  sad  scene.  They  feared  she  was  indeed 
gone  forever;  but  she  soon  arose.  The  sisters 
greeted  her  with  a  loving  kiss — the  whole  pro- 
cession swept  out  and  the  door  closed. 

Alas,  Beatrice  Fernandez !  better  would  it 
be  for  thee  if  the  tomb  had  indeed  received 
thee,  rather  than  the  living  death  which  thou 
hast  this  day  embraced ! 

As  that  door  closed,  a  heart-rending  shriek 
startled  the  assembled  multitude,  and  an  aged 
woman  was  borne  fainting  from  the  church. 

The  widow^s  heart  was  broken. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  167 

The  scene  once  more  changed. 

Clementma  found  herself  in  a  small  room. 
One  grated  aperture  in  the  massive  wall  ad- 
mitted just  light  enough  to  render  the  darkness 
visible.  The  furniture  consisted  of  a  stone  conch 
only  long  enough  to  accommodate  a  child  com- 
fortably, with  a  quantity  of  straw  spread  upon 
it,  and  a  small  table  containing  a  jug  filled  with 
water,  and  a  wooden  plate  containing  one  slice 
of  dry  hard  bread. 

Near  to  the  grating  a  woman  knelt  upon  the 
stone  floor.  She  was  dressed  in  a  skirt  of  black 
serge.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  rosary  and  in 
the  other  a  small  whip,  with  which,  at  the  close 
of  every  prayer,  she  inflicted  severe  blows  upon 
her  naked  shoulders,  bringing  blood  at  every 
stroke. 

Her  upraised  face  was  as  pale  as  death.  She 
was  young,  and  might  once  have  been  beauti- 
ful, but  the  sunken  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes, 
the  furrows  worn  by  flowing  tears,  told  of  many 
a  night's  vigil  and  severe  penance. 


168  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROE. 

Clementina  thought  she  had  seen  that  face 
before.  She  looked  again,  and  the  sad  truth 
Btood  revealed.  She  could  not  be  mistaken.  In 
this  lonely  cell  the  once  lovely  Beatrice  strove 
in  bitterness  of  spirit,  with  sufferings  and  tears, 
to  win  her  way  to  heaven. 

As  Clementina  was  weeping  over  the  woes  of 
the  unhappy  girl,  the  silvery  voice  chanted  the 
following  rhyme — 

"  In  its  dark  horrors  here  you  see 
Perverted  Christianity  ; 
Seek  now  thy  home  and  thankful  be 
For  the  true  hght  that's  granted  thee. 
You've  seen  how  few  enjoyed  the  truth 
That's  beamed  on  thee  from  earhest  youth : 
From  sinful  ways  in  haste  depart, 
And  give  thy  Saviour  all  thy  heart." 

As  the  words  were  ended,  Clementina  found 
herself  once  more  transported  to  her  own  dwell- 
ing, with  her  brilliant  jewel  before  her.  The 
precious  gem  was  placed  next  her  heart,  but 
the  impressions  produced  there  by  its  revela- 
tions were  deep  and  abiding.    The  scenes  that 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  1G9 

she  had  witnessed,  by  giving  her  so  much  in- 
sight into  the  woes  of  others,  made  her  realize 
bow  happily  her  lot  in  life  was  cast,  and  how 
many  more  blessings  were  granted  to  her  than 
fell  to  the  greater  portion  of  mankind. 

She  could  not  forget  the  last  words  uttered 
by  the  fairy  monitor  ;  the  musical  rhyme  was 
ever  ringing  in  her  ears,  and  she  was  induced 
to  avail  herself  of  every  opportunity  granted  to 
her  for  improving  in  religious  knowledge,  till 
at  length  she  was  led  to  embrace  an  offered 
Saviour ;  and  fi'om  a  higher  motive  than  she 
had  ever  known  before,  even  the  love  of  Christ, 
she  strove  to  submit  herself  to  His  will  in  all 
things. 

Clementina  is  now  an  altered  being.  The 
change  has  been  gradual,  and  has  cost  her  many 
a  severe  struggle ;  but  at  last  she  has  conquered 
her  habit  of  coveting  the  possession  of  forbid- 
den things.  She  has  found  that  each  heart 
knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  is  thankful  that 


15 


170  CLEilENTIifA'S   MIEEOR. 

SO  very  little  of  the  bitter  portion  has  mingled 
in  her  cwp. 

The  discontented  and  sullen  expression  of  her 
countenance  has  given  place  to  one  of  perfect 
peace.  Now  and  then  murmuring  thoughts  will 
arise  within  her  breast,  but  they  are  never  in- 
dulged in,  and  the  oftener  they  are  banished  the 
less  frequently  do  they  return  ;  and  as  they  are 
never  strong  enough  to  induce  her  either  to  act 
upon  them,  or  to  give  them  vent  in  words,  the 
magic  mirror  never  reminds  her  of  its  presence, 
and  was  in  fact  almost  entirely  forgotten,  when 
one  day  in  one  of  her  walks  she  accidentally 
happened  upon  the  spot  of  her  first  encounter 
with  the  fairy. 

She  was  just  recalling  the  various  scenes 
through  which  she  had  passed  since  she  last 
stood  there,  and,  remembering  that  she  had 
been  forbidden  to  return,  had  turned  to  leave 
it,  when  the  silvery  voice  once  more  broke  upon 
her  ear — 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  171 

"  The  fairy  spell  has  worked  a  cure 
That  will  throughout  thy  life  endure ; 
From  idle  wishes  ever  freed, 
No  more  the  monitor  you  need. 
Maiden,  return  my  gift  to  me, 
And  I'll  bestow  this  wreath  on  thee. 


"  Invisible  to  other  eyes, 
To  thee  it  cheerful  thought  supplies ; 
Where'er  through  life  thy  steps  are  led, 
Its  radiant  light  shall  crown  thy  head, 
The  ice  of  colder  hearts  shall  melt, 
And  make  its  unseen  influence  felt." 


Looking  upward,  Clementina  espied  her  fairy 
friend  seated  in  the  bell  of  a  beautiful  white 
lily.  Upon  the  point  of  the  magic  wand  which 
she  extended  towards  her,  was  suspended  a 
most  wonderful  wreath.  It  was  formed  of  the 
tiniest  gems,  resembling  dew-drops — so  small  as 
to  be  scarcely  visible  even  to  her  for  whom 
they  were  designed.  Yet  they  emitted  a  sil- 
very light  as  soft  and  pure  as  the  moonbeams, 
and  she  was  surprised  to  perceive  that  it  ex- 
tended  quite   a  distance    around   the   radiant 


172  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

object,  and  that  every  thing  touched  by  those 
gilver  rays  was  clothed  with  new  beauty. 

As  the  young  girl  raised  her  head,  the  fairy 
smiled,  and  the  wreath  descended  and  rested 
upon  her  brow. 

She  could  not  feel  its  weight,  yet  the  pure 
soft  light  entered  into  her  heart,  and  made  her 
sensible  of  its  presence. 

She  sank  upon  the  ground  in  a  deep  slum- 
ber, and  was  soon  again  transported  to  her  own 
home. 

From  that  day  forward  it  was  surprising  to 
see  the  influence  that  Clementina  exerted  over 
her  young  companions.  It  was  her  happy  priv- 
ilege to  raise  many  a  drooping  head,  and  to 
cheer  many  a  fainting  spirit.  She  often  heard 
them  wonder  at  her  happy  face  and  her  great 
popularity,  and  many  sought  to  discover  the 
secret  of  her  never-failing  serenity. 

Some  ascribed  it  to  her  unselfishness,  some 
to  natural  evenness  of  temper,  and  some  of  the 
more  ill-natured  to  artfulness  and  coldness  of 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  173 

heart,  but  none  ever  discovered  the  mystery  of 
the  wreath,  though  its  hght  ever  rested  upon 
her  spirit,  and  danced  about  her  pathway. 

Of  course  she  kept  her  visit  to  the  fairy's 
bower  a  profound  secret.  She  only  whispered 
it,  in  confidence,  to  me,  and  to  this  day,  though 
her  fi'ieuds  are  unable  to  give  a  reason  for  it, 
they  universally  admit  that  no  one  is  so  beloved 
as  Clementina. 

As  Mrs.  Grey  concluded  her  story,  the  chil- 
dren gathered  around  her,  and  thanked  her 
again  and  again  for  the  pains  she  had  taken  to 
amuse  them. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  were  pleased  with  my 

production,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  "  but  I  did  not 

mean  it   entirely  for  a  fancy  sketch.     I  have 

tried  to  keep  a  true  meaning  in  view  all  the 

time,  though  I  have  hidden  it  under  so  many 

fanciful  creations.     My  tale  has  a  moral,  and  I 

wish  to  see  which  of  you  will  be  wise  enough 

to  find  it  out." 

15* 


174  CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR. 

"Then  the  fairy's  first  gift  was  not  really  a 
miiTor?"  said  May. 

"  No,  darling,  but  something  which  you  have 
each  of  you  in  your  own.  possession." 

"  In  our  possession  ?  Oh,  what  can  it  be, 
mother  ?"  said  Helen. 

"  I  think  I  have  it,"  said  Hatty,  who  had 
been  quietly  looking  into  the  fire,  while  all  the 
others  had  suggested  every  thing  they  could 
think  of,  only  to  see  Mrs.  Grey  quietly  shake 
her  head.  "  I  think  I  can  guess.  It  is  the  mir- 
ror of  the  True,  Actual  Life.  And  when  Clem- 
entina held  it  before  her  and  saw  how  many 
peoj^le  have  real  and  great  trials  to  contend 
with,  her  light,  imaginary  ones  sank  into  com- 
plete insignificance." 

Mrs.  Grey's  quiet  smile  assured  Hatty  that 
she  had  solved  the  problem. 

"  I  do  not  see,  though,  who  the  fiiry  could 
be,"  said  JuHa. 

*'Do  tell  us,  mother,"  said  Helen. 

"Well  then,  dear,  she  was  named  Common 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  175 

Sense,  and  she  presented  the  mirror  to  Clem- 
entina for  her  inspection,  and  induced  her  to 
take  its  lessons  to  heart." 

"I  must  say,  my  dear,  that  my  penetration 
is  somewhat  at  fault,"  said  Mr.  Grey,  laughing. 
"  I  was  not  aware,  before,  that  the  very  desira- 
ble personage  you  have  mentioned  dwelt  be- 
neath the  sea,  and  held  a  court,  where  she 
would  condescend  occasionally  to  receive  mortal 
visitors." 

"You  are  so  very  matter  of  fact,  Charles, 
that  I  hardly  expected  my  little  story  to  escape 
your  ciiticism.  Consider  that  I  was  obliged  to 
embellish  considerably  to  suit  the  taste  of  my 
auditors.  I  will  endeavor  to  explain  a  little, 
though,  for  your  benefit.  Remember  that  it 
was  only  in  spirit  that  Clementina  took  her  lit- 
tle airy  trips.  Her  body  had  not  much  to  do 
with  the  matter  except  to  act  out  the  various 
good  resolutions  that  she  formed.  So  you  can 
readily  imagine  the  woods  to  bo  the  confused 
crowd  of  her  own  disconnected  thoughts  ;  ram- 


176  CLEilENTINA'S   MIEROK. 

bling  through  these,  she  stumbled  upon  the 
bower  of  Reflection,  where  Common  Sense  ap- 
peared to  her." 

"The  home  beneath  the  sea  is  to  remain 
for  ever  a  mystery,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Grey, 
with  a  quizzical  expression. 

"I  did  not  know  you  were  such  a  tease, 
Charles,  but  I  am  determined  to  defend  myself, 
so  I  will  even  account  for  that.  She  dwells  be- 
neath the  sea  of  the  tumultuous  cares,  the  rest- 
less emotions  and  the  exciting  pleasures  of  the 
world,  and  though  she  sometimes  rises  and  suc- 
ceeds in  reaching  the  court  that  she  holds  with 
her  followers  in  the  bower  of  Reflection,  she 
seldom  receives  a  visitor,  and  seldom  has  an  op- 
portunity to  make  her  voice  heard." 

"  Well,  dear,  whatever  opinion  I  entertain  in 
regard  to  your  story,  I  will  admit  that  you  are 
one  of  the  most  patient  as  well  as  the  most 
plausible  of  women." 

"  And  what  was  the  wreath,  mother  ?^  said 
Julia. 


CLEMENTINA'S   MIRROR.  177 

*'Ask  Helen,"  replied  Mrs.  Grey,  with  a  sly 
glance  at  her  eldest  daughter. 

*'  I  can  guess,"  said  Helen,  answering  Julia's 
surprised  look  with  a  conscious  blush.  "  It  was 
a  Contented  Spirit,  which  shed  the  light  of 
happiness  into  her  heart  and  life,  and  reflected 
upon  all  with  whom  she  associated." 

"You  have  not  told  us  a  real  fairy  story 
then,  after  all,"  said  Charlie,  looking  almost 
ready  to  cry,  as  he  saw  one  wonderful  vision 
after  another  dissolve  and  disappear  at  a  touch 
of  Truth. 

"Never  mind,  Charlie,  I  was  not  exactly 
thinking  of  your  pleasure  when  I  wrote  this.  I 
aimed  to  please  and  instruct  your  sisters  and 
cousins  who  are  older  than  you.  If  you  -will 
forgive  me  this  time,  I  will  invent  something 
more  wonderful  especially  for  you.  But  you 
look  rather  sleepy,  my  little  son,  so  tell  papa 
that  we  are  ready  for  prayers." 

After  prayers  were  ended  the  children  pro* 
pared  to  retire. 


178  CLEMENTINA'S   MIREOB. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  mother,  for  your  lesson,*' 
whispered  Helen,  as  she  kissed  Mrs.  Grey  for 
good  night.     "  I  hope  I  shall  profit  by  it." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  darling,"  replied  her  moth- 
er, kissing  her  fondly  in  return. 

"  This  is  the  last  of  the  holidays,"  she  contin- 
ued, turning  to  May  and  Hatty.  "  It  may  be  a 
long  time  before  we  again  spend  an  evening  to- 
gether. On  Monday  morning  you  will  all  re- 
turn to  school  and  its  duties,  and  we  shall  be 
separated  from  each  other.  But  do  not  let  the 
memory  of  this  holiday  week  be  banished  from 
your  minds.  Strive  earaestly  during  the  com- 
ing year  to  wear  the  fairy's  wreath.  Obtain 
and  cherish  a  Contented  Spirit,  and  if  you  thus 
convince  me  that  you  have  profited  by  this 
story,  perhaps,  when  we  meet  again,  I  will  have 
another  ready  for  your  entertainment." 


THB   END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


(i^u^fef  f^m 


Am 


B    000  002  996    7 


